Bet On That
by beckyharvey29
Summary: Ian Gallagher's friend bets he can't get Mickey Milkovich to go to the Valentine's Day dance with him. Even though Mickey hates his guts and wants nothing to do with him, Ian accepts the bet, not wanting his friend to get the last laugh.


"Ey, watch where the fuck you're going, firecrotch."

After regaining his balance from being knocked hard by a shoulder in passing, Ian Gallagher turned around and eyed the back of Mickey Milkovich's head, a small, not-so-amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Kiss my ass, Milkovich!" Ian called out. "Try opening your own eyes next time, maybe?"

Mickey shot a middle finger over his shoulder before disappearing into the mingling throng of students who were crowding the school hallway.

Ian huffed a bemused laugh and shook his head. "What a dick."

"Having a little spat with your boyfriend again, Gallagher?" a voice taunted from behind him. "You two need to bang it out already, relieve some of that pent-up sexual tension you two got going on."

Ian threw his best friend, Levi, a disgruntled look. "Milkovich wishes he could get with this," he said, making a sweeping gesture down his body.

Levi barked out a laugh and bumped his shoulder against Ian's. "Please, I've caught you checkin' out Milkovich's ass plenty of times over the years, you don't fool me, amigo."

"Hey, the asshole might be hot, I'm not gonna deny that," Ian conceded, "but everything else about the guy? No fuckin' thanks." He made a shuddering motion to really drive home his point.

"Who says you have to like anything else about the guy to fuck him, huh?" Levi reasoned.

Ian narrowed his eyes in thought before saying, "Touché."

Levi laughed as they stopped at his locker. "Milkovich would never let you touch him, anyway. You may be hot for the guy," Before Ian could open his mouth to argue, Levi held up a hand to shush him, "but Milkovich clearly hates your guts."

Ian scoffed. "Please, he may hate me now, but that's only because I've never actually tried to get his attention."

"Whoa, wait," Levi said, turning away from his locker to face his friend, his amusement over the whole conversation evident on his face. "Are you saying if you actually flirted with Milkovich—actually tried to get with him—that he'd go for it?"

Ian shrugged as if it wasn't the most absurd idea in the world. "Yeah, it's worked before on other people."

"Yeah, on half the football team and your married boss two years ago, but this is Mickey Milkovich we're talking about here," Levi exclaimed. "The guy hates you. He blatantly, openly despises you. Like, he can't even look in your direction without dry heav—"

"Okay, I get your point," Ian interjected, irritated. "He hates me."

Levi laughed. "I'm just saying."

"And I'm saying all I gotta do is give him the time of day, lay on the ol' Gallagher charm a little, maybe let him cop a couple feels," Ian shrugged. "He'll be on his knees in no time."

"Oh, you think the guy will all of a sudden worship you, huh?" Levi laughed. "Are you that full of yourself?"

"No, I mean he'll be suckin' my dick," Ian said with a grin, making a lewd gesture towards his crotch.

"Oh, okay," Levi said with a curt nod as he shut his locker and turned fully towards Ian, his eyebrow quirked. "You wanna make this interesting?"

"Interesting, how?" Ian asked hesitantly, the grin slipping from his face. He hated the look on his best friend's face. He knew what was about to come out of Levi's mouth wouldn't be good. Hardly anything good ever did.

"Interesting like… a bet."

"A bet?" Ian asked, frowning. "What kinda bet? Why does everything have to turn into a competition with you?"

"Just want you to put your money where your mouth is, Gallagher," Levi said with a shrug. "Can't blame a guy for trying to earn a few extra bucks."

Ian rolled his eyes, hefted his backpack higher on his shoulder, and sighed, knowing his friend probably wouldn't let it go. "What are you thinking?"

Levi rubbed at his chin a little as he thought about it. "Gettin' Milkovich to suck your dick might be a little too easy. Get him a little drunk or high, and who knows what can happen. We gotta up the stakes a little."

"Up the stakes, how?" Ian reluctantly asked.

"You gotta get him to actually like you," Levi said. "Get him to willingly wanna be around you."

"Done." Ian shrugged without hesitation. "Gimme a couple of months, and I'll be golden."

Levi barked out a laugh at that. "A couple of months? Uh, no… you get one month. One month to get Milkovich to not only like you, but he has to willingly agree to go to the Valentine's Day dance with you next month."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Ian exclaimed, causing a few of his classmates to throw curious looks his way. He sighed and lowered his voice before continuing, "That's fuckin' impossible. Mickey wouldn't be caught dead at a school dance unless it was to sell drugs or to TP the place."

Levi smirked. "Not so confident anymore, are we, Gallagher?"

Ian eyed his friend's smug expression with disdain. He knew, deep down, that Levi was rooting for him to fail. Ever since the seventh grade when the two had become friends, Levi always found ways to pit him and Ian against each other. The two were best friends, but it was clear that Levi harbored some sort of resentment toward Ian deep down. Which was why Ian knew he couldn't decline the bet, even though he knew it would be next to impossible to get Mickey Milkovich to agree to accompany him to a fucking school dance, of all things.

"Fine," Ian finally conceded. "You're on. Not only will Mickey Milkovich be dropping to his knees for me in one month's time, but I'll be walking through the gym doors to that dance with Milkovich on my arm."

Levi grinned and patted Ian's cheek. "If you don't pull it off, I get two hundred bucks."

"Two hundred bucks?" Ian reiterated, slapping Levi's hand away. "That's all?" Even though two hundred dollars was a lot of money to him, almost five whole shifts at the Kash-n-Grab, he was surprised his friend wasn't trying to get more out of him.

"Oh, trust me," Levi began, "That, and watching you fail miserably will be payment enough."

"What do I get when I win?"

"Braggin' rights," Levi said with a shrug.

To anyone else, bragging rights probably wouldn't be that big of a deal, but bragging rights against someone as smug as Levi, Ian couldn't pass that up.

"That's if you win, by the way," Levi said, laughing. "Which is never gonna happen." The smile slipped from his face in the next instant, and he lowered his voice to say, "Speaking of the devil…"

Ian and Levi watched as Mickey stalked past them, throwing a dark look in Ian's direction in the process.

"Fuck you lookin' at?" Mickey asked them in passing.

Levi clapped his hand on Ian's shoulder and laughed again once Mickey had rounded a corner. "Looks like you got your work cut out for you, my friend."

Ian rolled his eyes and continued on his way toward his next class, his irritation seething. He was going to do everything he could to make sure he won their little bet if only to wipe that complacent look off Levi's face for good.

* * *

Ian figured if he only had one month to get the ball rolling, to get Mickey Milkovich to not only acknowledge his existence but to actually like him, he couldn't waste any time. He had a lot of work to do, and that was a fucking understatement. Levi was right, Mickey hated him with a passion.

He'd seen Mickey around school enough to know that Mickey had a woodshop class right before lunch, so Ian casually loitered outside of that class later that day, hoping to catch Mickey in the process. Just as he was hoping he would, Mickey was the last to file out of the classroom when the bell rang, almost slamming headfirst into Ian since he was looking down at a paper in his hands.

"What the fuck?" Mickey groused once he'd regained his balance and saw who had bumped into him. "Walk much, asshole?"

"Sorry," Ian muttered, watching as Mickey completely avoided looking at him. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"What the fuck else is new?" Mickey snapped before moving to walk around him.

Ian sighed and spun on his heel to follow after Mickey. He fell into step with him, which was hard to do considering he had to continuously side-step other people as they walked. He watched as Mickey glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You lost or something, Opie?"

"Nope."

"'Kay." Mickey stopped abruptly, causing Ian to bump into him from behind. He then turned to face Ian, his brows arched menacingly. "Why are you following me? The fuck do you want?"

Ian swallowed visibly as he stared into Mickey's glaring eyes. The guy was unmistakably pissed. He knew he should back off, but he soldiered on. He had to. "Wanted to see if you wanted to finally call a truce after all these years, maybe?" When Mickey didn't say anything to that, Ian continued, trying to seem nonchalant about it all, even though his heart was racing under Mickey's disdainful scrutiny. "School's gonna be over in a few months." He shrugged to keep up the charade that he was cool, calm, and collected. "Figured we could bury the hatchet once and for all?"

"You wanna bury the hatchet?" Mickey repeated, looking and sounding as if he thought that was the stupidest shit he'd ever heard.

Ian shrugged again. "Yeah, we'll be graduating at the end of May. We might not see each other ever again after this."

"So what?" Mickey snapped. "So I'll never see your pasty, ginger ass around anymore, always getting in my way. Trust me, I won't lose any fuckin' sleep over it. Forget about burying the hatchet, Coppertop. It ain't gonna happen."

Ian opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He knew approaching Mickey was going to be difficult, but he had definitely underestimated just how difficult it would be.

"We done here?" Mickey asked, clearly eager to get away from him.

Ian, dumbfounded, opened his mouth to respond, but before he could finally get anything out, Mickey was shoving past him and continuing down the hall towards the cafeteria. Ian turned and watched as Mickey stalked away, his eyes dropping involuntarily to Mickey's ass. Damn. The whole thing was going to be a lot harder than Ian had originally thought. Mickey seriously hated him. Still, he wasn't giving up without a fight.

At least Mickey was nice to look at; that was probably the one and only good thing about the whole fucked-up situation.

* * *

A little while later, Ian looked up from his lunch when a shadow fell over his table.

"So, any luck with Milkovich yet?" Levi asked with a shit-eating grin as he pulled a chair out with a scrape and sat down.

"Dude," Ian retorted, "it's been, like, forty-five minutes, relax."

"With an impossible task like yours, every second counts," Levi pointed out with a wave of a limp french fry.

"I already tried talkin' to him, alright? He's not having it." Ian sighed, glancing over in Mickey's direction. As always, Mickey was sitting by himself in a far corner of the cafeteria, his face buried in a worn-out paperback book.

Levi looked in Mickey's direction and chortled. "I'm still surprised the dude can even read above the third-grade level."

Ian frowned a little at his friend's insensitive comment, but like always, he said nothing to defend Mickey. What was the point?

"Still can't believe the two of you used to be friends," Levi snorted as he dragged his fry through ketchup.

"Yeah, back in the fifth grade," Ian muttered. "That was a long time ago. Trust me, that gives me no advantage in this situation."

"What happened between you two again?" Levi asked through a mouthful of food. "I don't think you've ever told me the whole story, just that the two of you stopped being friends out of nowhere."

Ian shrugged, not really wanting to revisit that shitty part of his past, but he soldiered on, anyway. "His mom died unexpectedly of a drug overdose when he was eleven. Shortly after that, he started hangin' out with a different group of friends, started getting into trouble… stopped talkin' to me altogether." His voice trailed off, and he rubbed a hand over his face.

Once upon a time, the fact that Mickey had left him in the dust had hurt Ian's feelings, and it had taken some time to get over, but that was years ago. He was sure Mickey had his own fucked-up reasons for distancing himself from Ian. Instead of feeling sad or upset about it anymore, Ian just felt indifferent about it all. If anything, he was bitter that Mickey treated him like shit when Ian had never done anything wrong to deserve any of it in the first place. While a part of him knew he should feel bad for going along with Levi's stupid bet, considering he and Mickey had once been close, he didn't. Not really.

Mickey sure as shit never gave a damn about him, why should he care about Mickey's feelings?

"You should go talk to him," Levi said, interrupting Ian's thoughts. He arched a brow when Ian looked at him quizzically. "He looks lonely. Looks like he could use a friend."

"I'm not gonna bug him while he's eating lunch."

"Pussy," Levi said, fake-coughing the word into his fist.

"How old are you again?" Ian asked, shaking his head.

"Time's a-tickin'," Levi taunted, tapping a make-believe watch on his wrist. "Wouldn't put it off if I were you."

"I fuckin' hate you," Ian grumbled as he reluctantly stood up, lunch tray in hand, knowing his friend wouldn't shut up about it unless he went over to Mickey's table.

"Hey," Levi said, throwing his hands up in fake innocence. "I'm just giving you a little push. You're my best friend, man, I just wanna see you succeed!"

"Oh, I'm sure you're doing this for me, huh?" Ian snapped before turning and heading in Mickey's direction. He rolled his eyes when he heard Levi laugh behind him. As he got closer to Mickey's table, his heart pounded rapidly in his chest. What the fuck was he doing? Was all of the inevitable embarrassment really worth bragging rights?

Mickey was still reading his book once Ian was standing at his table, not bothering to look up.

"Uh," Ian began awkwardly. He knew Mickey knew he was there, there was no way he couldn't know. He knew Mickey was purposely avoiding looking at him. He knew he should just turn around and walk back to his own table, save himself the embarrassment, but he refused to do that. Not with Levi still undoubtedly laughing at him. "Hey, um, mind if I sit with you?"

Mickey licked his bottom lip and turned a page in his book. He still refused to look up.

"I saw you sitting alone," Ian continued after a pause. "Thought you could use some company."

Mickey remained silent.

Ian sighed and then eyed the cover of Mickey's book, deciding to start there. Mickey seemed to be into books these days, what could it hurt? "House of Leaves. That's a good one. Freaky as shit."

Mickey closed his book with a flourish, stood up with a loud scrape of his chair, and made his way towards the exit, leaving his untouched lunch behind.

Ian hesitantly placed his own tray down on the table and followed Mickey. He didn't know why he was doing so, he only knew he had to push. That was, unfortunately, the only way he would be able to get through to Mickey. He may not have been friends with the guy in years, but if there was one thing he remembered about Mickey Milkovich, it's that there had been walls… walls that were hard to break down.

He pushed his way out of the cafeteria doors and was immediately pushed back against the wall by a strong hand to his chest. The air whooshed out of him, and he stared back at Mickey, whose face was only inches from his.

"What the fuck's goin' on with you, huh?"

It took Ian another few seconds to gather his wits before he tore Mickey's hand away from his chest. "Chill the fuck out, Mickey, Jesus!"

"Tell me why you have this sudden urge to wanna be friends with me, Gallagher, when for the past six fuckin' years we haven't been shit to each other." When Ian didn't answer, Mickey clutched the front of Ian's shirt and pushed him back against the wall harder. "Answer me, dickhead."

"I don't… I don't know!" Ian stammered. "It's just like I said, school's ending in a few months. We used to be good friends once. I thought I'd be the bigger person and finally make the first move."

"Bullshit," Mickey spat. "I'm not buyin' it. Tell me what the fuck you're really up to."

"I'm not up to anything!" Ian exclaimed. "I'm leaving for West Point at the beginning of summer, and I have no idea when I'll be home again. I just… I wanted to—"

"Stop," Mickey interjected, finally loosening his grip on Ian's shirt. "Just fuckin' stop. No more comin' up to me in the hallway, no more askin' to sit with me at lunch. Don't even breathe in my direction, got it?"

Ian didn't respond, he just watched as Mickey turned and stalked away from him, heading towards the exit instead of back into the cafeteria. Ian shrugged his shoulders to straighten his askew shirt and glared at a girl passing by who was giving him the stink-eye.

Levi looked up a couple of minutes later when Ian rejoined him in the cafeteria. "So, how'd it go?" he asked, smirking, clearly already knowing how it went judging by the frustrated look on Ian's face.

"Don't worry about it," Ian grumbled. "I got my work cut out for me, but I'm not giving up. You can wipe that smirk off your face now."

Levi grinned down at his peas, knowing his friend was in for a hell of a ride. He was gladly going to sit back and watch it all go up in flames.

* * *

A couple of nights later, Ian took a gulp of his piss-warm beer and glanced around the crowded living room, watching as hetero couples danced on each other, and drunk dude-bros did clumsy keg stands in the corner. It wasn't at all his usual scene, and he couldn't quite figure out why he had allowed Levi to talk him into coming; something about it being the end of senior year and not being able to experience high school parties ever again. Like Ian gave a shit about that.

He sighed and downed the rest of his beer and took another glance around the room in search of his friend, intent on informing Levi that he was leaving. As he took in the room, his eyes landed on Mickey who was standing in a corner across the room, a red plastic cup in his own hand, and his own eyes taking in the rambunctious crowd. He looked as bored and out of place as Ian felt. Next to Mickey stood Mandy Milkovich. Ian suddenly had an idea of why Mickey was there, figuring Mandy had talked him into coming just as Levi had Ian.

When Mickey's eyes eventually locked with his through the crowded room, Ian smiled a little and held up his plastic cup in a half-hearted salute. He made the decision right then and there to stay for a little while longer. He couldn't pass up the unexpected opportunity to get some time in with Mickey, considering he hadn't had the opportunity to in the past couple days. At school, it seemed as if Mickey was avoiding Ian even more than usual, which was a feat in and of itself.

Now that he had Mickey literally in a corner, Ian knew he had to take advantage of it. Maybe if Mickey had some alcohol in his system, he'd loosen up long enough for Ian to finally gain some ground.

Ian pushed his way through the crowd, sneering at a junior girl who grabbed his ass in the process. Seriously? Hetero girls were the fucking worst, always thinking they were hot enough to turn a gay guy straight. If only she knew he'd had a dick in his mouth the night before. He finally made it to Mickey and his sister, and he smiled a little even as Mickey sneered at him.

"The hell do you want?" Mandy greeted him first. Her eyeliner was too heavy, her hair was piled in a messy heap on top of her head, and her outfit could be described as 'slutty pirate wench,' but she was still the prettiest girl in the room, even with the sailor's mouth. "You got a death wish, shithead?"

"No, no deathwish," Ian said, his eyes on Mickey who was in the process of downing his drink. "Just wanted to come over and say hi to your brother."

Mandy frowned and looked at her brother with a sneer. "What's goin' on here? Since when are you and Gallagher friends again?"

"We ain't," Mickey snapped before burping crudely. "Raggedy Andy here can't take a fuckin' hint."

Ian sighed but figured since Mickey wasn't hightailing it out of there, maybe he had a shot at an actual conversation for once.

"I'm gonna go get a refill," Mandy said, still eyeing Ian suspiciously as she stepped away from the wall. She then asked her brother, "You want another one?"

"Yeah, sure, can't go wrong with more fuckin' alcohol," Mickey grumbled, handing his cup to Mandy. Once they were alone, Mickey finally looked directly at Ian, his brows arched high in an obvious attempt to appear intimidating. "Can I help you with something? Thought I told you to stay away from me."

"Just wondering what you're doing here," Ian began with a shrug. He turned his head and scowled at someone who'd bumped into him from behind. He looked back at Mickey to find him watching him. He blanched a little under the intense scrutiny. "Never really saw you at parties before. Didn't think they were your thing, not unless you were dealing or casing the place."

"Not that it's any of your business, but Mandy asked me to come," Mickey retorted. "She didn't feel like coming alone, and I needed alcohol and to get outta the house. Win-win."

Ian nodded and took another sip of his beer, watching Mickey over the rim of his cup. Mickey looked good. Real good. Almost too good. He was sweaty, and his cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were really blue. He wore ripped jeans and a button-down shirt that was open exposing a fitted tank underneath. Ian cleared his throat and looked away when he realized he'd been gawking.

"Also figured I could probably get my dick sucked if I played my cards right."

Ian's head shot up when Mickey's words registered. He knew Mickey was gay, as he never really attempted to hide that fact these days. He'd come out in the middle of sophomore year, or rather, he'd been caught with his pants down around his ankles, and Chad Benton on his knees in front of him in the janitor's closet. Mickey had been suspended for two weeks, Ian remembered. No, Ian wasn't surprised Mickey was gay, because he knew that already. He was surprised that Mickey was being so blatantly open about his sexual conquest for the night.

Mickey fished a joint out of his pocket and lit it, his eyes locked with Ian's. "Relax, firecrotch, I definitely wasn't talkin' about you so wipe that stupid look off your face."

Ian rolled his eyes at that. "I know you weren't, I'm just surprised you'd even tell me something like that. It's good, you know, that you're not ashamed, that you own it," he said sincerely.

Mickey shrugged and took a deep drag of his joint as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Ian watched him, knowing he had to say more, knowing he had to break down those walls, even if that meant he had to say something inappropriate. "Though, if it was me on my knees for you, I'd rock your fuckin' world."

Mickey's eyes snapped up to meet Ian's, clearly surprised by that brave declaration.

"Just so you know," Ian finished smoothly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he brought his cup back up to his mouth.

Mickey licked his bottom lip and arched his brows. After a beat, he said, "I think the whole football team could probably attest to that, but no thanks. I can find a warm mouth anywhere, it's not gonna be yours."

Ian laughed, his eyes bright. "Wait, did you just call me a slut? To my face?"

"If the shoe fits, man," Mickey said, taking another drag of his joint, and if Ian didn't know any better, he'd say the corner of Mickey's lips twitched upwards in a faint, barely-there smile.

Someone bumped into Ian from behind again, and he found himself being pushed directly into Mickey's personal space. Mickey collided with the wall, and Ian collided into him, chest to chest.

Ian swallowed hard as he and Mickey breathed each other's air for a few seconds. His eyes searched Mickey's face, and then he quickly stepped back. He was a little surprised by the reaction the few seconds of touching had caused.

"People need to watch where the fuck they're going," Mickey grumbled as he finished off his roach and tossed it to the hardwood floor to stomp it out.

"Don't think Karen's parents will be too happy to come home tomorrow and find burn marks on their floor," Ian pointed out, even as his heart continued to race in his chest.

"Fuck Karen's parents," Mickey groused. "Fuck this party."

Ian watched as Mickey's eyes zeroed in on someone across the room. He turned his head to look at who had caught Mickey's attention and frowned when he caught sight of a junior he barely recognized from school looking back in Mickey's direction, his brow arched in question, looking clearly intrigued. Ian scoffed a little and looked back to find Mickey jerking his head towards the stairs. He was clearly interested in whatever the guy had to offer.

Mickey looked at Ian and smirked, his expression cocky. "Well, it was nice talkin' to you, Gallagher, but I'm gonna go get my dick wet. See ya."

Ian watched as Mickey brushed past him to head up the stairs, the junior making his way through the crowd to follow after him. He ran a hand over his hair and sighed, not knowing what to think or how to feel about the whole situation. On one hand, he was annoyed that his conversation with Mickey was cut short; they'd been finally getting somewhere, maybe. On the other hand, he felt a little spark of jealousy at the fact that Mickey was heading upstairs to get his dick sucked by a pimply-faced junior who probably didn't even have the common courtesy to swallow.

He quickly squashed those unwanted thoughts and turned to search for his elusive best friend. He finally spotted Levi near the kitchen with his tongue shoved down Dawn Henson's throat. Ian took that as his cue to leave without a word and turned to head towards the door. He found Mandy standing behind him, two refills in her hands, and a frown on her face.

"Where'd my asshole brother go?"

"Uh, I think he went upstairs… to go to the bathroom," Ian answered, not wanting to clue Mandy in on the fact that Mickey was about to have his dick in some random dude's mouth. He felt an odd obligation to protect Mickey's privacy, not knowing just how much Mandy knew about her brother.

"He's getting head from Jason Thompson isn't he?" Mandy groused. "Fucker couldn't even wait twenty goddamn minutes, fucking perv."

"Uh," Ian began, not knowing how to respond to that.

Mandy sighed, then handed Ian her brother's drink. When Ian raised an eyebrow in question, she snapped, "My brother isn't here to drink it, is he? Can't let it go to waste, and I am not double-fisting tonight."

"Okay, thanks," Ian said, reluctantly accepting the cup and taking a gulp.

"So," Mandy started, "What's up with you and my brother, anyway? You shitheads friends again or what?"

"Nah, your brother hates me."

Mandy snorted into her cup.

Ian frowned at that. "What was that noise about?"

"Nothing, forget it," Mandy murmured before taking a gulp of her beer. She continued after a pause. "Last I heard, you were the one who didn't want anything to do with him. Used to see you around the house all the time when we were kids, then you disappeared out of nowhere. Mickey never really told me why. He always gets on my shit any time I bring you up."

"We just grew apart, I guess," Ian said, not knowing what else to say. He wasn't even exactly sure what had happened between them. He'd heard of friends growing up and growing apart naturally, but the way he and Mickey had fallen out hadn't felt natural at all. In fact, it had completely blindsided and crushed Ian.

"I was young, but I remember him sulking around the house for a long time afterward," Mandy muttered thoughtfully as she stared down into her cup.

Ian stared down into his own cup, Mandy's words surprising to him. "I just always thought he didn't care."

"He cared," Mandy intoned. "He just always has his own shitty way of showing it." Another moment of silence passed before she spoke again. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Kinda hoping you guys can work it out and be friends again. He never really had a friend like you since."

"Maybe you can do something for me?" Ian said before he could think the words through. He knew that asking Mandy for help was inadvertently pulling her into the bet, and that was something he absolutely did not want to do, but he needed all the help he could get.

"You want me to do something for you?" Mandy asked, sounding apprehensive. "Like what?"

Ian shrugged. "Talk me up a little to Mickey, maybe let him know I'm not as bad as he thinks?"

"How do I know you're not as bad as he thinks you are?" Mandy asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Ian sighed and rubbed a hand over his hair. "I wanna be his friend again before we graduate. I don't wanna leave at the end of the year and always wonder, you know?" He watched as the emotions played on Mandy's face. He felt bad about lying to her, but he wasn't really lying was he? If he and Mickey ended up amicable after it all, maybe even friends, then what could it hurt?

Mandy smirked and gave him a little once-over. "Mickey can't be talked up about anything," she said. "Just don't be a complete shithead to him and give him some time. He'll come around, eventually."

* * *

A couple of days later, after ROTC finished up, Ian took some time to do a few laps around the track before heading home, figuring the extra bit of exercise couldn't hurt. After his fifth lap around, he stopped to bend over, hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. He looked over when some movement under the bleachers caught his eye. He straightened up and angled his head to get a better look. A smile bloomed on his face when he realized who was under there.

Taking only a handful of seconds to make up his mind, Ian headed towards the bleachers and ducked under. He found Mickey sitting on the ground, his left hand hanging casually over his bent knee, and his right hand at his mouth as he inhaled a cigarette, his eyes taking Ian in.

Ian swallowed hard and glanced away, once again feeling small under Mickey's scrutiny. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, took a deep breath, and then walked further underneath the bleachers.

"Fuck you want?"

"Mind if I sit for a minute, catch my breath?"

Mickey's eyes slid over Ian's body again, and then he quickly looked away and spat on the ground. "Do whatever you want, man, don't need my permission. We're on public property."

Ian hesitantly made his way over to him and sat down on the ground next to him. He looked at Mickey and studied his profile for a beat before pointing to his Marlboro. "Mind if I take a hit?"

"Yeah, I do mind," Mickey snapped. "Get your own damn cigarettes."

Ian laughed a little and rubbed the back of his sweaty neck, aching to take a shower but reluctant to walk away just yet. It was rare that he had the chance to get Mickey alone.

"You smell like a dirty fuckin' sock."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens after two hours of ROTC and running laps."

Mickey snorted and turned his head to spit at the ground again.

Ian looked at Mickey out of the corner of his eye, wondering how receptive Mickey would be to jokes. He decided to forge ahead, prepared to deal with whatever repercussions as they happened. "Still smell better than you," he lied, because, truth be told, he liked how Mickey smelled.

"You wish, carrot top."

Ian laughed again and was surprised when Mickey handed him the nearly spent cigarette. "Thanks."

"Don't fuckin' mention it."

They fell into awkward silence then as Ian finished the cigarette, trying not to think too much about the fact that he could taste Mickey on the filter. Thinking Mickey smelled good? Getting a little excited about Mickey's spit on the end of a cigarette filter? Ian mentally chided himself to get his head out of his ass.

"So, do you ever—" Ian began, but he was quickly cut off.

"If you came to chit-chat, you can get outta here," Mickey groused. "I come here to clear my head and relax. I don't need you spouting your bullshit right now."

"I was just wondering if—"

"Did I stutter, Gallagher?"

Ian pursed his lips and nodded curtly. "Fine," he spat. He stood up from the dirty ground, tossed the cigarette down and stomped it out, and began making his way out from under the bleachers, intent on grabbing his duffel bag and heading home. Before he could get very far, though, Mickey's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"When my mom died, you didn't fuckin' come around."

Ian halted in his steps and allowed Mickey's words to register before turning back. "What?" Ian asked, dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?"

"My mom died, man," Mickey continued, tonguing the inside of his cheek. "My mom died, and you fuckin' ignored me."

"Mickey, I was twelve," Ian began after a loaded pause, Mickey's words knocking the wind out of him. He'd never expected them. "I didn't ignore you. I didn't know what to say to you, or how to act around you after it happened. My mom took me to your house a few days after she died, but your dad said you needed space. He told my mom to keep me away from you for a while, so I gave you space, and then you just never talked to me again."

"Oh, because you tried so fuckin' hard?" Mickey spat.

"I was a kid, Mickey!"

"So was I!"

"I didn't—" Ian started, pausing to rub a hand down his face. He glanced around, his mouth opening and shutting a few times as he tried to process what to say next. Finally, he looked at Mickey, his expression soft. "I didn't mean to ignore you. It just sorta happened, I guess."

Mickey shook his head and looked down at his boots. He sniffed, then spat at the ground. "Whatever. It doesn't fuckin' matter anymore."

"Mickey, you were my best friend," Ian continued, stepping closer. "It fuckin' crushed me when you started hanging out with those other douchebags instead of me."

"I was your best friend, huh?" Mickey asked as he stood up, dusting the dirt off the back of his pants. "Didn't take you long to replace me with that asshole Leaf, though, did it?"

"His name's Levi."

"Do I look like I give a shit what his name is?"

Ian sighed before continuing, "I didn't replace you with him. It's not like I set out to replace you."

"Whatever, man. Those other douchebags I replaced you with were Iggy's friends, and they came around a lot more than you fuckin' did," Mickey snapped. "Don't try to play the victim here, Gallagher. It's been six fuckin' years and suddenly you wanna be friends again? What, you wanna braid each other's hair too? Have fuckin' sleepovers? Fuck you."

"You were doing drugs, going out on runs with your dad!" Ian bellowed. "You barely looked in my direction for the past six years! You've treated me like I was dog shit on the bottom of your shoe! You weren't exactly innocent."

"Fuck off, man," Mickey snapped, moving to brush past him, but Ian grabbed his arm to stop him. He quickly yanked his arm from Ian's grasp and shot him a dark look. "Don't fuckin' touch me."

Ian sighed and held his hands up to placate Mickey. "Okay! Okay, look… Mickey, we were both kids who simply grew apart because of fucked-up circumstances and miscommunication. That's it. It's not because I… not because I hated you or anything, or because I got a new best friend. I missed you. I missed our friendship."

Mickey avoided Ian's eyes and rubbed at his lower lip with his thumb before muttering, "You were my best fuckin' friend too, man. I needed you back then. Because of my mom… and because of other shit."

"Other shit?" Ian asked. "What other shit?" A heavy silence ensued. Ian watched as Mickey continued to refuse to look at him, his jaw shifting. Suddenly, bitter memories flooded to the forefront of Ian's mind; memories of Mickey's dad pushing him around, calling him obscene names, and degrading him every chance he got.

A memory came to Ian then, of Mickey showing up at his house one night, his eyes brimming with tears that he was obviously trying to hold back. They hadn't said one word to each other; they just went up to Ian's room, sat on Ian's small bed with a blanket over their heads, and played on one of Ian's old handheld video consoles for hours. When a ten-year-old Ian had finally asked Mickey what was wrong, Mickey had simply muttered 'my dad' and that had been the end of it. Mickey had slept over at Ian's house three nights in a row, that time. By the end of that first night, Mickey had been smiling again. Being around Ian used to make Mickey happy.

"Your dad," Ian finally uttered. "You're talking about your dad, aren't you?"

"Fuck off."

"He got worse, didn't he?"

Mickey quickly wiped at the corner of his eye and moved to brush past Ian again. "Fuck you, I'm not doin' this. I never shoulda brought it up. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking."

Ian reached out again, grabbing Mickey's wrist. That time, Mickey didn't pull away. "I'm sorry, Mickey. I'm sorry you had to go through that, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I shoulda been there."

Mickey sniffed again and finally pulled his hand from Ian's grasp. Instead of turning to leave, he walked back to the backpack he'd brought with him and pulled out two beers. He handed one to Ian before sitting down on the ground. "Beer's probably warm," he muttered. "Take it or leave it."

Ian watched as Mickey opened his beer and guzzled half of it, before moving to sit down next to him. He watched Mickey out of the corner of his eye for a little while before saying, "How bad did it get? With your dad?"

"What, now you fuckin' care?" Mickey snapped.

"I've always cared, Mickey."

"Yeah. Right." Mickey scoffed. "You had a real shitty way of showing it."

Ian swallowed hard as he continued to watch Mickey's profile. "It's alright, you don't have to tell me anything."

"Good, because I'm not fuckin' going to."

Ian nodded and looked down at the ground between his feet, deciding not to press the issue. He and Mickey sipped their beers in awkward silence for a while before the silence was broken.

"It got really bad after a while," Mickey uttered, his words barely above a whisper. "It was worse for Mandy."

Ian averted his eyes to Mickey and watched as he swallowed hard. He swallowed back his own emotions and decided not to say anything, wanting Mickey to have complete control over the conversation.

"I wish the fucker was dead," Mickey blurted after a long pause, his words shaky with emotion. He gulped the rest of his beer before reaching for another.

Neither one of them said anything for a long time after that.

* * *

The next day, Ian walked up to Mickey, who was standing at his locker. Before he could even open his mouth, Mickey slammed his locker shut, said "Nope," then turned and started down the hallway.

"Oh, come the fuck on, Mickey," Ian exclaimed as he followed him. "Would it really be so bad if me and you were friends?"

"I don't need friends, Gallagher," Mickey retorted. "What I need is for you to fuck off."

"Come on," Ian said, bumping his shoulder against Mickey's playfully as they walked. "Who doesn't need friends, huh?"

"You fuckin' deaf?" Mickey snapped. "Me, I don't need friends."

Ian rolled his eyes as he continued to follow Mickey down the hallway. "I thought we were finally getting somewhere yesterday?"

Mickey turned abruptly and glared at Ian. He scowled as a group of girls brushed past them, sending irritated looks his way. He then looked back at Ian, his eyebrows knitted together. "Why, because we shared a fuckin' cigarette and had a five-minute conversation about shit that don't matter anymore? That doesn't make us friends."

Ian was surprised when he felt a little hurt by Mickey's words. He'd really thought they'd gotten somewhere the day before. He shoved his hands into his pockets and hung his head. "So that's it, then? I'm just wasting my time? There's nothing here?"

Mickey arched his brows high, tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and nodded once.

"Okay, got it," Ian muttered after a heavy pause. "My mistake."

"Ey, man, look," Mickey called out when Ian had taken five steps, surprising the hell out of him in the process.

Ian turned around, his brows raised in question. It was the second time in two days that Mickey had stopped him from leaving. Maybe all hope wasn't lost after all.

"We're cool, alright?" Mickey said with a sigh. "Doesn't mean we gotta be friends or anything. We're just… we're cool. Let's leave it at that?"

"Cool, yeah," Ian said, grinning and nodding his head a little in agreement. "I can work with that."

Mickey's eyebrows slowly lowered and, for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled a little at Ian. "You always were a stubborn shit. I see nothing's fuckin' changed."

Ian smiled back and watched as Mickey turned and headed down the hallway.

The smile remained on Ian's face for most of the day.

* * *

A few nights later, Ian was working at the Kash-n-Grab. It was a ridiculously slow night (as most of them were), and he was sitting behind the counter, passing the time by reading a shitty tabloid magazine. He'd been working at the Kash-n-Grab since he was fourteen, and in a few months, he would be moving on to greener pastures. Even though he was excited to get out of Chicago and go to West Point, excited to start his new life, a small part of him was going to miss Linda and the store.

The bell above the door jingled, and Ian didn't bother to look up. He figured whoever had entered was most likely a regular who probably didn't need the kiss-ass greeting.

"Fuck you doin' here?"

Ian's head shot up, and he was surprised to find Mickey standing at the door. He straightened up and smiled, his night suddenly looking better. "Hey. I work here."

Mickey smirked, his eyes falling to the magazine in front of Ian that was displaying a spread about the Kardashians. "Oh, is that what that's called?"

"Slow night," Ian said lamely with a shrug. "Um, do you need help finding anything?"

"Nah, I think I can find my way around a shitty store," Mickey said as he perused the chip rack directly in front of the counter.

Ian's eyed the back of Mickey's head, scrambling to come up with something more interesting to say, not wanting Mickey to leave yet. "I've been workin' here for four years. Never seen you come in before."

"Yeah, I usually hit up the convenience store by my house," Mickey explained as he tossed a bag of Doritos and a Slim Jim onto the counter. "I was in the neighborhood takin' care of something for my dad, thought I'd stop and grab some dinner."

"This is your dinner?" Ian's eyes searched an unaware Mickey's face as he fished through his wallet, pulling out a five-dollar bill.

Mickey looked up and locked eyes with Ian. He arched a brow. If he'd noticed Ian staring, he didn't say anything.

Ian rang Mickey up, then handed him the change, letting his fingertips linger in Mickey's palm for a few heartbeats. Just as Mickey grabbed his stuff and turned to leave, Ian called out, "You can hang out for a while if you want. Keep me company?" When Mickey turned and gave him a quizzical look, Ian continued, "Like I said, it's a slow night."

"What, you think I don't got better shit to do than hang out here with your ass all night?"

"Do you?"

Mickey glanced towards the door and rubbed at the corner of his mouth with his knuckle. He then looked back at Ian, his brows raised. He tossed his chips back onto the counter and reached for Ian's magazine. "The fuck are you reading, anyway?"

Ian grinned. "Ah, you know… just keepin' up with the Kardashians."

Mickey flipped through the magazine, shaking his head at Ian's lameness and cursing under his breath, which only caused Ian to grin harder.

"So, you said you were doing something for your dad?" Ian asked tentatively after a pause.

"Don't start, Gallagher."

"Was it something illegal?"

Mickey looked up from the article about Nick Jonas he was glimpsing through to give Ian a dirty look.

"Okay," Ian said, holding up his hands to placate Mickey. "I won't ask."

"So, you been here for four years, huh?" Mickey asked, clearly intent on changing the subject.

"Yeah, I practically help run the place now," Ian said with an air of arrogance. "With Linda. Her husband Kash ran off a couple of years ago. He was gay and hated living a lie, I guess, so he left her and his two kids in the middle of the night like a coward."

"Yeah, I heard about that, how the towelhead who owned this place back in the day liked young dick," Mickey said, still flipping through the magazine. "Surprised the dude never tried to get with you."

Ian stiffened when Mickey's words registered. When Mickey looked up a few seconds later, he sighed. "He did, actually… he did try to get with me."

Mickey's face immediately twisted in disgust. "What the fuck. Guy's lucky he's not around anymore, I'd kick his fuckin' ass. What did you do about it? Hopefully, you kicked him in the balls."

Ian pursed his lips and averted his eyes to the counter. He hated the fact that they were having this conversation. He was trying to do whatever he could to get on Mickey's good side. Mickey knowing about his affair with Kash would undoubtedly end in disaster.

"You fucked him?" Mickey asked after the pause went on for too long.

"Yeah," Ian answered, leaving it at that. Mickey didn't need to know that it had been more than once, or that he'd actually given a shit about the guy to some extent. He looked up to see a weird expression cross Mickey's face. "I can just imagine what you're thinking about me right now."

"Doesn't fuckin' matter what I think about you," Mickey grumbled, his eyes downcast, and his fingers lazily flapping a page of the magazine. "What I know is the guy is a pedophile, and he never shoulda touched you." He then cleared his throat and finished with, "Like I said… the fucker is lucky he's not around anymore."

Ian smiled softly when he realized Mickey's weird mood was him being protective, even though he would probably never admit it. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something to try to lighten the mood, Linda's voice boomed through the intercom.

"Ian, I need you to grab those cases of pop in the back room and bring them up front. I have someone stopping by in the morning to pick them up."

"Okay, Linda," Ian said, his eyes once again on an unaware Mickey as he read the 'Who Wore It Best' section of the magazine. Had Mickey's eyelashes always been that long?

"And make me a sandwich," Linda added. "Cheddar cheese and hot mustard."

"You got it," Ian answered as he stood up and walked around the counter. "You wanna help me with the pop?"

"Do I look like I work here?" Mickey grumbled even as he moved to follow Ian into the back room.

"You could, you know?" Ian teased. "I could put in a good word with Linda. Maybe you can work security?"

Mickey scoffed at that. "Yeah, in another fuckin' life maybe."

Ian laughed as he bent down to grab a case of pop. "Can you grab that one over there?" he asked. He turned his head to look at Mickey over his shoulder, and he almost dropped the case of pop he was holding when he realized Mickey was looking at his ass as he was bending down.

Mickey looked away quickly when he realized Ian had noticed his staring. He nervously rubbed at the corner of his mouth before walking over to where the other case was. In the next instant, he grabbed the case of Pepsi and headed back toward the front of the store without another word.

Ian was left a little dumbfounded in the back room, a grin slowly blooming on his face. Had he really seen what he thought he'd just seen? Had Mickey been checking him out? Was that a blush he'd seen on Mickey Milkovich's face?

He gathered himself and headed back up front, the smile still on his face. "Thanks for helping me do this."

"Yeah, whatever," Mickey grumbled.

Even though Mickey acted as if he hated every single second of hanging out and helping, he stayed at the Kash-n-Grab with Ian for another two hours that night. They ate their dinner of Doritos, Slim Jims, and Gatorade, and flipped through two more tabloid magazines, arguing and bantering about what they read. When Mickey finally left that night, Ian walked him out and watched as Mickey headed down the block. He didn't go back inside the store until after Mickey had rounded a corner.

* * *

Two days later, Ian and Mickey were hanging out under the bleachers, skipping fifth period. They figured since it was nearing the end of senior year—and their grades were pretty much final by that point—that it wouldn't hurt to ditch a class or two.

Ian had been surprised when Mickey approached him with the idea, but he hadn't hesitated to take him up on it. The fact that Mickey was initiating the two of them hanging out was a huge deal.

"Got a good deal on some primo shit." Mickey fished a joint out of his front shirt pocket and lit it, taking a deep drag before handing it to Ian.

Ian accepted the proffered joint, took a long drag, and coughed roughly on his exhale, causing Mickey to bark out a laugh. He locked eyes with Mickey and took another drag to prove he could do it. He then blew the smoke in Mickey's face and laughed when Mickey scowled. "It's been a while since I've smoked. Been tryna stay on the straight and narrow."

Mickey hummed and took the joint back, their fingers brushing in the process, though neither of them seemed to notice or mind.

"So, West Point, huh?" Mickey asked after a pause, surprising the hell out of Ian with the personal question.

Ian nodded as he watched Mickey take a long drag. He realized he was staring at Mickey's mouth and quickly looked away. "Yeah. West Point."

"I remember you bein' all into that stupid G.I. Joe shit back when we were kids," Mickey teased as he took another deep drag. He licked his lips and stared idly at his hand as if contemplating what he was going to say next. On his exhale he said, "Never actually thought you'd be into that army shit for real, though. You really wanna enlist? You wanna go and get fuckin' shot up in some 'stan somewhere for this shithole country?"

Ian carefully took the joint Mickey handed him and shrugged. "It's kinda something I've always wanted to do, I guess. I can't really explain it. I think it has something to do with having some structure in my life, doing something important, actually having a goal."

"What, gettin' killed?"

Ian smirked at that.

Mickey looked away from Ian and nodded a little. He then spat on the ground between his bent knees. "So, you're leavin' at the beginning of summer, then?"

"Yeah," Ian said, lifting his eyes in time to see a weird look cross Mickey's face, almost as if Mickey was having reservations about it all.

"That's in New York, ain't it?"

"Uh huh," Ian said, passing the joint back to Mickey, their fingers brushing and lingering again. "It's about a twelve, thirteen-hour drive."

Mickey nodded and brought the joint to his lips. Neither boy said anything for a while after that.

* * *

Almost a week later, Ian knocked on the Milkoviches door and took a step back as he waited for someone to answer. He only had an hour before he had to be at work, and he figured he'd stop and see Mickey for a few minutes before he went. He hadn't seen Mickey in school that day and figured he'd check in.

They'd been getting closer over the past week, even eating lunch together twice. They smiled at each other in passing at school, and they hung out under the bleachers a few times, shooting the shit and getting high. Truth be told, Ian was starting to forget about the bet. He really liked hanging out with Mickey. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until now.

When the door opened, Ian was pulled from his thoughts and was surprised to find Terry Milkovich glaring back at him. He was a little stunned to be suddenly standing in front of a man he hadn't been face-to-face with in over six years. "Uh, hi," he began, wondering if the man even remembered him.

"Mandy's not here," Terry groused, smoke billowing from his mouth as he puffed on a cigar.

"Oh, uh, okay," Ian began, secretly relieved that Terry just assumed he was there to see Mandy. He backed away off the porch, eager to get away from the man. "I'll just see her at school tomorrow."

Just then, Mickey appeared over Terry's shoulder, his face dropping when he saw it was Ian who was at the door.

"I was just here, uh, looking for Mandy," Ian said to Mickey, his voice trailing off. He took in the black eye Mickey had and swallowed back the bitter lump in his throat. He curled his fists at his sides as anger coursed through him. He suddenly knew why Mickey hadn't been at school that day, and he knew exactly who'd given Mickey the black eye. Before he could think it through, he asked shakily, "You okay?"

Mickey shot him a look that simply said 'get out of here', although it was probably a lot more colorful in his head.

Terry's rough voice startled Ian out of his reverie. "What the fuck do you want, boy? Didn't I tell you to stay in your fuckin' room? Does no one fuckin' listen around here?" He raised his hand and made a motion as if he was going to backhand Mickey across the face.

Ian watched as Mickey shrunk away a little, looking nothing like the Mickey he knew. He looked scared, hopeless, and embarrassed. Ian immediately wanted to reach out and comfort him.

Mickey turned and headed back inside the house without a word or glance in Ian's direction, but that didn't mean Ian didn't catch the pained look on Mickey's face before he walked away.

"What the fuck are you still standing on my porch for? Told you, Mandy's not here," Terry bellowed, stepping back and slamming the door shut in Ian's face.

Ian stood on the porch long after the door was closed, his eyes brimming with tears and the feeling of absolute helplessness crushing him.

* * *

The next day at school, Ian found Mickey at his locker, and he pushed through the crowded hallway to get to him, eager to make sure he was okay. Ian hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, his mind on Mickey and the look that had been on his face when he'd seen Ian at his door.

"Mickey."

"Don't, Gallagher, I fuckin' mean it," Mickey warned, immediately slamming his locker shut and turning to make his way down the hall, Ian hot on his trail.

"Mickey, would you stop?" Ian pleaded as he followed him. "Look at me."

"Fuck off."

Ian sighed, deciding desperate times called for desperate measures, and he grabbed Mickey by the elbow, dragging him into an empty classroom and shutting the door behind them.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, asshole?" Mickey snapped, spinning around once they were alone and looking at Ian as if he'd grown two heads.

"Your dad fuckin' hit you, Mickey," Ian exclaimed. "Excuse the fuck outta me for wanting to make sure you're okay!"

"Why the fuck do you gotta know if I'm okay? It's a black eye," Mickey snapped. "You think I'm not used to this shit by now? This is nothing."

Ian scrubbed a hand down his face, anxiously shuffling his weight from foot to foot before saying, "You shouldn't have to be used to that shit by now. You shouldn't have to put up with his shit, Mick—"

"What the fuck were you even doing there, anyway?" Mickey interjected. "You can't just show up at my house whenever you want to, asshole!"

Ian stepped closer, crowding Mickey back against a desk. "I was there to see you. I wanted to see you before I went to work, fuckin' sue me," Ian retorted, his tone softer. "I didn't know your dad would be there."

Mickey visibly swallowed as he looked into Ian's eyes.

Ian stared back, then hesitantly reached up and lightly brushed his thumb against Mickey's black eye. He was surprised when Mickey didn't immediately shrink away from his touch. "So, this happens to you a lot?"

Mickey sighed and reached up to pull Ian's hand away from his face. "No, it doesn't happen a lot," he snapped unconvincingly, moving to walk away from Ian. "It was my fault, anyway. He told me to do something and I didn't do it, so I fuckin' deserved it, alright? When my dad tells me to do something, I grit my teeth and do it, or I get my ass handed to me. That's just how it is. That's how it's always been."

Ian frowned. "No, I don't care what you did wrong, Mick. He gave you a black eye, for fuck's sake! You don't deserve that."

Mickey stared back before moving to head for the door. "Fuck this, it's none of your business. Just stay the fuck outta my life."

"Why are you—"

"You don't know fuck all about my dad. You don't even know me," Mickey spat. "Don't act like you care about any of it. You've never given a shit before."

As Mickey opened the door to leave, Ian kicked into motion and pressed a hand to the door, closing it. He pressed against Mickey's back and touched his lips softly against the nape of Mickey's neck. "Mickey…"

"Back the fuck off, Gallagher," Mickey warned, even though his tone said otherwise.

Ian sighed and breathed Mickey in a little before backing up, not wanting to take advantage of Mickey's personal space even though everything in him was screaming for him to hold Mickey close.

Mickey turned around and looked at Ian with raised brows but said nothing.

Ian reached up and cupped his hand against Mickey's cheek, relieved when Mickey sighed but didn't pull away. "You're wrong, Mickey. I do know your dad. I know he's an evil, psychotic prick who needs to learn how to keep his fuckin' hands to himself. And I know you. I know you don't deserve any of that shit. I know you're scared of him, and I know you're embarrassed about what I saw, but you don't have to be embarrassed in front of me. I won't ever judge you."

Mickey tongued the inside of his cheek and averted his eyes.

"Look at me, Mickey."

"Fuck you."

"Please," Ian pleaded. "Look at me."

After a few moments, Mickey finally looked at him, his eyes sad.

"You're wrong about me not caring about you," Ian said emphatically, the pad of his thumb softly caressing the apple of Mickey's cheek. "I do."

Mickey sniffed and closed his eyes. He reached up and placed his hand over Ian's. He seemed to lean into the touch for a few heartbeats before pulling Ian's hand away from his face. "Leave me alone, alright?" he muttered. "I got enough bullshit to deal with in my life right now, I don't need friends. I don't need your ass swooping in, trying to play knight in shining fuckin' armor."

Ian stood back and watched as Mickey left the classroom, closing the door behind him. He leaned back against a desk and scrubbed a hand down his face, Mickey's words resonating miserably in his head.

* * *

"How's it going with Milkovich?" Levi asked later that day.

"Things are going fine," Ian intoned as he stared down at his half-eaten lunch. He wasn't in the mood to talk to his friend about Mickey, and he definitely wasn't in the mood to talk about the bet. The bet was the furthest thing from Ian's mind.

"You gonna give me more than that?" Levi pressed. "I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks. You've been up Milkovich's ass lately. Things have to be going better than fine."

"They're goin' good, alright?" Ian snapped. "Don't worry about it."

"I hope so, the dance is next week," Levi continued, undeterred by his friend's sour mood.

"Thanks, I'm well aware of that."

"Think he'll go with you?"

Ian looked up at his friend, then averted his eyes over to where Mickey was sitting alone at his usual table, his face in a book as always. Ian's heart ached a little in his chest at the sight. "I don't know," he answered distractedly. Without saying anything else to his friend, Ian stood up and made his way over to Mickey's table.

"What d'you want, Gallagher?" Mickey asked, sighing without looking up. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit right now."

"Come with me for a minute."

Mickey looked up, frowning. "The fuck you mean come with you?"

"Come with me for a minute," Ian repeated. "I need to show you something."

He watched in surprise as Mickey sighed again and stood up without much of a fight. Ian turned and headed towards the exit with Mickey following him. Once they were out in the empty hallway, he turned to Mickey and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but he wanted to be close to Mickey. He wanted to fix things between them. He hated how things had gone down in that classroom earlier, and he needed to say what he was really thinking; what he was really feeling.

Mickey regarded him, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "The fuck is this about? What did you wanna show me?"

"I like you, Mickey," Ian blurted.

Mickey gnawed on his lower lip and glanced down the hall before looking back at Ian, his expression unreadable. "You really don't know when to give up, do you?"

"Hey! You're finally starting to get it!" Ian exclaimed, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Let it go, Gallagher."

"Not gonna happen," Ian said, shaking his head. "Isn't that obvious by now?"

"What do I gotta do or say to get through to you?" Mickey asked, watching as Ian took a step closer. "I don't wanna be your friend."

"Okay, we don't have to be friends," Ian said with a shrug, stopping just inches from Mickey. His eyes searched Mickey's, and then he said, "Let me take you out on a date."

Mickey laughed, but he didn't look amused.

"I don't wanna just be your friend, Mickey."

Mickey looked away and rubbed at his jaw for a beat before saying, "I tell you I don't wanna be your friend, so your next move is to ask me out on a date? You're fuckin' daft, aren't you? I don't wanna be your friend, the fuck makes you think I wanna date you?"

Ian glanced around the nearly empty hall before stepping closer to Mickey, causing Mickey to back up against a nearby locker. He watched as Mickey's eyes lifted to his, and his Adam's apple bobbed. Ian smiled. "I make you nervous."

"Fuck off, you make me nervous," Mickey spat, even though his eyes fell to Ian's lips. "You wish, bitch."

"I think you like me too," Ian said, hoping he wasn't being too aggressive in his approach. Judging by the way Mickey kept staring at Ian's mouth, he didn't think he was.

"You think I like you?" Mickey asked, giving Ian a quick once-over. "I can barely stand your ass."

Ian smiled again and stepped even closer, knowing there was no truth behind Mickey's words. "Let me take you out on one date. If you have a horrible time, I'll take you home, and I'll leave you alone… for good."

Mickey's eyebrows shot up. "Really? If I let you take me out and I decide I don't want you, you won't ever bother me again? You'll stop with the whole us being friends and you taking me out shit?"

Ian did a Scout's honor motion with his hand and smiled as his eyes searched Mickey's face.

"You're such a dick," Mickey muttered, once again looking at Ian's mouth before quickly looking away. "Alright, fine. We'll go on one fuckin' date, but I get to choose where we go and what we do, and I decide when it ends. When I inevitably tell your ass I don't want anything from you, you gotta let this shit go. Deal?"

Ian nodded, still smiling. "Deal."

Mickey's eyebrows slowly lowered as he regarded Ian. "I hate you," he said, even though his tone said otherwise.

"No, you don't," Ian said with a small smile, his eyes dropping to Mickey's mouth. He leaned in, his breath ghosting across Mickey's face, and pressed his forehead against Mickey's. Without another word, he turned and headed back into the cafeteria, leaving a slightly confused and aroused Mickey behind.

* * *

A few nights later, Ian stood in his living room, eagerly waiting for Mickey to pick him up for their first and probably only date. He was a little nervous about letting Mickey take the reins, but he figured it was better than not getting a date at all.

"Who are you going out with, anyway?" his sister, Debbie, asked from the couch.

"I told you, I can't tell you," Ian said as he peered out of the curtains.

"Why can't you tell me?" Debbie asked with a frown. "What's the matter with him? Is he old?"

Ian sighed. He'd banged his thirty-five-year-old boss a few times two years ago. No one in his family ever seemed to want to let that go. "No, he's not old."

"Is he ugly?"

"No, he's definitely not ugly," Ian muttered. He had decided not to tell his family it was Mickey he was going on a date with. Considering the two used to be friends who had stopped talking for six years, he wasn't ready for the inevitable questions that would come with it.

He still couldn't believe Mickey had even agreed to go on a date with him; Ian never expected it. Levi had no clue about it, either. It had nothing to do with the bet. Ian had asked Mickey out simply because he wanted to take him out. He didn't want Levi to have any part of that.

"You're nervous," Debbie pointed out with a grin. "It's cute."

"Yeah, well, I really like the guy," Ian admitted, surprising himself by how true the words were, and how naturally they fell from his mouth. It kind of scared the crap out of him.

Finally, the Milkovich beater pulled up in front of the house right on time. As Ian grabbed his coat and headed for the door, Debbie called out, "Have fun, be safe!"

Ian bounded down the Gallagher front steps and got inside Mickey's car. He looked at Mickey and grinned, secretly pleased to see that Mickey had put some effort into their date. Not only was he right on time, but he was wearing nice jeans and a button-down shirt, and his hair was gelled back.

"Hey," Ian said, still grinning. "You look nice."

"Hey," Mickey said, giving Ian a quick, appreciative once-over before switching gears and pulling out. "Borrowed my brother's car for the night so we don't have to hoof it everywhere."

"Where're we going?" Ian asked as he put his seatbelt on.

"Figured we could catch a movie, maybe grab something to eat first?" Mickey answered with a sniff as he fumbled with the heater knob. "I dunno, man. I never really did this dating shit before."

"Me neither. Dinner and a movie sounds good to me," Ian said with a smile, leaving out the 'as long as I'm with you' part, figuring that would be too much for Mickey.

When Mickey pulled into a White Castle parking lot a little while later, Ian wasn't even disappointed.

"This okay?"

"Yeah, it's okay," Ian assured him with a smile as they went through the drive-thru. After ordering their food, Mickey parked in a corner spot of the parking lot where there were no other cars.

"Wanna sit on the hood and eat?" Mickey asked, already opening his door, his bag of food in hand.

Ian considered it a good idea seeing as it was 60 degrees outside despite it being the middle of February. Chicago weather was fucked-up like that sometimes. "Yeah, let's do that."

A few minutes later, Ian and Mickey were sitting side by side on the hood of the Milkoviches car, eating their meals in amicable silence.

Mickey finished off his burger rather quickly and burped crudely.

Ian snuck a look in Mickey's direction with a fond smirk and a raised eyebrow. He sipped his pop and racked his brain for something interesting to say. He didn't want Mickey to completely write him off at the end of the night for being a boring, lousy date.

He asked the first thing that popped into his head. "So, what d'you plan on doing when school ends?"

"I dunno, man," Mickey answered after a slight hesitation. "Probably get a job at the fuckin' meat packin' plant or some shit."

Ian looked down at the drink in his hand, feeling sad for Mickey at that moment. He wished Mickey was able to get out of that shithole town. He deserved to get out, too.

"My dad also knows some mick from high school that could probably get me a job tarrin' roofs," Mickey continued before spitting at the ground. "Who the fuck knows."

Ian continued to stare down at his drink, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

"What's up, freckles?" Mickey asked, breaking the tense silence. "What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

Ian shrugged and glanced at Mickey, his eyes sad. "Just thinking about how none of it's fair. Your life. It's not fair."

Mickey held Ian's gaze for a few beats before looking away. He sniffed and said, "Don't worry about me, man. In a couple months, you'll be in New York living the dream. Probably won't even give a second thought to us lowly creatures back here in shitty-ass Chi-town."

When Mickey looked back at him, Ian held his stare and swallowed visibly. "That's not true," he said, his tone soft and earnest.

Mickey broke the intense staredown first. He looked out into the distance, his tongue poking around the inside of his cheek.

Ian decided it was time to lighten the mood, not wanting to make Mickey uncomfortable with the sappy talk. "Tell me something no one really knows about you."

"The fuck?"

Ian laughed at the look on Mickey's face. "I'm serious. I wanna know something about you that no one else knows. I used to know everything about you. Now, not so much."

Mickey stared back at him for a few heartbeats with raised brows before leaning back against the windshield and crossing his legs at the ankles. He looked up at the night sky, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Ian watched him and waited, wondering if he had overstepped.

Mickey swallowed visibly a few times, the silence stretching to a point to where it was starting to feel uncomfortable.

Just when Ian thought Mickey wasn't going to say anything, and that he had completely fucked up his chances, Mickey spoke, surprising him.

"You're not completely to blame for us growin' apart when we were kids."

Ian frowned and remained quiet, hoping Mickey elaborated on that and quick.

Mickey glanced at Ian before looking away in the next instant. He rubbed a hand down his face, then sighed before saying, "I kinda pushed you away. When you stopped coming around as much… I realized how much… fuck. Nothing I'm saying is coming out right."

Ian moved to lie back against the windshield too, giving Mickey time to gather his thoughts, afraid that if he said something Mickey would stop talking.

"When you stopped coming around so much," Mickey continued, his voice slightly rough around the edges. "I realized how much I fuckin' liked you, and not just as a friend." Mickey's words hung between them for a small stretch before he went on. "It scared the shit outta me, so I guess that's why I didn't do much to try to fix our friendship. That's why I pushed you away. I don't know, it's fuckin' stupid, but you weren't fully to blame for how things went down between us, alright?" Mickey chanced a look in Ian's direction to gauge his reaction. "We were both just stupid fuckin' kids who didn't know shit about shit."

"You liked me?" Ian finally asked after a pause, his eyes searching Mickey's. "When we were kids? Like… you had a crush on me?"

Mickey didn't say anything, he just nodded his head the slightest bit.

Ian looked away and frowned a little as his mind tried to catch up with it all. "I thought you hated me. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Mickey barked out a laugh. "You fuckin' serious? Why the hell would I tell you that?"

"I don't know," Ian murmured. "Just woulda been nice to know, I guess."

"Nah," Mickey said. "I was young and stupid. I wasn't even fully aware of who I was yet. I was fuckin' terrified of my dad. Knew how he felt about gays, even at that age. If anything, I was doing everything I could to fuckin' forget who I was. If you woulda stuck around, I probably woulda pushed you away, anyway."

Ian glanced up at the night sky, his thoughts on overdrive, his emotions running rampant.

"Besides," Mickey went on, his voice softer than it had been all night, "I'm tellin' you now, ain't I?"

Ian turned his head back to the side to look at Mickey, his heart racing in his chest. "I really wanna kiss you right now," he blurted, his eyes dropping to Mickey's mouth.

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey said, his eyes intense as he stared back at Ian. "You wanna kiss me, huh?"

"Yeah," Ian breathed. "I really fuckin' do."

"Nothing's fuckin' stoppin' you," Mickey murmured only seconds before Ian leaned over and kissed him.

After a slight hesitation, Mickey's lips responded.

Ian kissed him slowly and sweetly, just barely slipping his tongue past Mickey's parted lips.

Mickey sighed into the kiss and reached up, curling his hand around the nape of Ian's neck and digging his fingers in Ian's hair, making sure he didn't go anywhere.

They continued kissing for a while after that, right there on the hood of the Milkoviches beat-up car, the starry night sky twinkling above them.

* * *

The next morning, Ian found Mickey at his locker and instantly grinned at the sight of him. Even though Ian hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, his mind unable to let go of the making out that had happened on their date, Ian had never felt more awake, more alive.

"Hey."

Mickey looked up, his eyebrows raised, and his mouth pulled into a smirk. "Hey."

Ian's good mood slightly wavered and was replaced with nervousness. He couldn't gauge Mickey's mood. Did Mickey regret kissing him? Did he regret telling him the things he'd told him? Did he regret the date altogether?

"So, how are you doing?" he asked lamely, mentally chastising himself for being so fucking awkward.

"I'm good, man," Mickey intoned, turning back to face his locker.

"Good," Ian said, nodding, his heart dropping a little in his chest. Mickey clearly hadn't been as affected by their date as Ian had been. Cool, cool, cool. "Uh, I'm good too."

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, turning his head to regard Ian with an arched eyebrow. "Have a good night last night?"

Ian slowly smiled, happy that Mickey was finally bringing up their date. "Yeah, I did. Went out with this really hot guy. We talked a little, kissed a little. It was good." Ian leaned in and allowed his lips to linger near Mickey's ear. "I kinda can't stop thinkin' about him."

Mickey's breath hitched a little, and he licked his lips before looking into Ian's eyes. "Oh, yeah?"

"Uh huh," Ian said, his eyes dropping to Mickey's mouth. "Kinda wanna kiss him again."

Mickey looked away and swallowed visibly before shutting his locker. "I don't know, man. He might make you wait 'til the second date. Might make you work for it a little."

Ian immediately perked up at that. "So, there's gonna be a second date, then?"

"I don't know," Mickey said, moving to head down the hallway. "Guess we'll have to wait and see."

Ian followed Mickey, feeling as if he was on cloud nine.

Before Ian could even catch up to what was happening next, Mickey grabbed his hand and pulled him into an alcove under a set of stairs. He was pushed roughly against the wall, and Mickey was on him and kissing him in the next instant. Ian laughed through the kiss and dug his hand in Mickey's hair, kissing him back just as hard. When the bell rang a minute later, they ignored it in favor of keeping the kiss going. Eventually, they had to reluctantly pull apart and head to class, but they both sported smiles as they went, promising to meet up with each other under the bleachers after school.

* * *

"So, I've been wanting to ask you something," Ian began a couple of days later as they were hanging out under the bleachers, which was quickly becoming their spot. He tried to reel his nervousness in, knowing his next question was what it all came down to. He had to get Mickey to agree to go to the dance with him. A big part of him felt bad for still going along with the bet, but he was hoping that Mickey might get a kick out of the whole thing in the end. Maybe Mickey would be happy that the bet had actually brought them back together. Maybe. Besides, it wasn't even completely about the bet anymore. He genuinely wanted to go with Mickey.

"Spit it out, Gallagher," Mickey pressed when Ian's silence went on for too long.

Ian rubbed a hand over his face and shuffled his weight from foot to foot a few times before deciding to bite the bullet. "There's a dance in a couple days."

"Yeah, and…?"

Ian swallowed thickly before asking, "And I was wondering if you'd go with me?"

Mickey frowned. "What, to the dance?"

"Yeah."

Mickey laughed without looking up from his tedious work. "Fuck off."

"I'm serious, Mickey."

"So am I," Mickey retorted, looking up, his eyebrows high. "I'm not going to some stupid fuckin' school dance with you. The fuck do I look like, a fifteen-year-old chick?"

"Come on, Mickey, it'll be fun," Ian argued. "What's wrong with fun?"

"Fun, my ass, man," Mickey retorted as he stood up and lit the joint he had been diligently working on for the past few minutes. "No fuckin' way."

"Mickey."

"I don't dance, Gallagher."

Ian laughed and shrugged, "Okay, so we won't dance."

Mickey inhaled the joint before saying on his exhale, "I don't dress up, either."

"So we'll wear fuckin' jeans and t-shirts and stand in the corner sipping a flask," Ian said, his eyes dancing with humor. He grabbed Mickey by the waist and tugged him closer, feeling a little resistance at first, but Mickey eventually complied with a sigh. "I just wanna go with you."

Mickey scoffed. "What's next, you gonna ask me to the fuckin' prom?"

"Maybe. We'll see how it goes," Ian teased. "I can get you one of those little boutonniere things to pin to your jacket."

"Fuck you, I ain't wearing a fuckin' gay-ass boutonniere, bitch," Mickey said, laughing.

"You do realize you're gay, right?" Ian asked, laughing too as he pulled Mickey even closer.

"Not that fuckin' gay," Mickey muttered right before Ian's lips pressed against his in a soft, lingering, sweet kiss. When Ian pulled away, Mickey's eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted.

"I don't know, you seem pretty gay to me," Ian teased, which earned him an elbow to the ribs as Mickey pulled away.

"Fine, I'll go to the fuckin' dance with you, asshole," Mickey relented. "As long as you know I'm not dressin' up, or dancin', or talkin' to people."

"Got it," Ian relented with a grin before kissing a grumpy Mickey again, sealing the deal.

* * *

Ian and Mickey made their way into the school dance two nights later. Pink and red streamers hung from the ceiling, red balloons covered the gym floor, and too-loud pop music poured from the speakers. It looked like a scene straight out of a cheesy-ass '90s rom-com movie. Ian could tell instantly by the look on Mickey's face that he was completely miserable and wanted to be anywhere else but there. The fact that Mickey had even agreed to accompany Ian to the dance made Ian's stomach flip a little, but the fact that it was all based on a bet instantly soured Ian's otherwise good mood, and the smile slipped off his face.

Every day he got in deeper with Mickey, the worse he felt.

As they made their way further into the gymnasium in search of the food and drinks, Ian spotted Levi off to the side, standing with his date and a few of his lacrosse buddies. Just as Ian was hoping Levi wouldn't catch sight of them, his friend spotted him.

Levi held his cup in the air with a knowing smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and turned away from his friend, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach as he was reminded once again of their bet. He swallowed the bitter lump in his throat and accepted the cup of punch Mickey handed him. "Thanks."

"You alright?" Mickey asked, giving Ian a sideways glance. "You've been quiet ever since we got here."

Ian looked at Mickey and smiled softly. He could never tell Mickey the real reason why he felt sick to his stomach. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You seem distracted about something," Mickey said around the rim of his cup, his concern showing in his eyes.

Just as Ian was about to open his mouth to answer, he was interrupted.

"So, are you guys actually a thing now or what?" Levi asked, lifting his own cup of punch to his mouth and taking a sip, his eyes locked with Ian's. "Didn't take as long as I thought it would."

Ian threw Levi a death glare. His jaw flexed, and he leaned in so his friend could hear him over the music. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He glanced back at Mickey who looked anything but happy about Levi's presence. Ian grabbed Levi's arm and tugged him a dozen feet away. "The hell's your problem? What are you tryna pull?"

"Hey, I'm just making sure the guy's really into you, alright?" Levi explained. "Making sure he's here because he likes you and not just showing up as a friend. Making sure I'm not getting scammed." Levi's eyes then averted over Ian's shoulder and the smile slipped off his face. "Judging by the way he's reacting right now, though, I'd say he's pretty into you."

Ian looked over his shoulder at Mickey and watched as Mickey sent eye daggers in their direction. He clearly looked unhappy about Levi's interruption.

"He's jealous as all hell," Levi pointed out. He then laughed a little, sounding slightly amazed. "I think that's proof enough. I don't know how you did it, but you did."

Ian ran a hand over his face and sighed, Levi's words only causing him to feel worse.

"I'll leave you alone now before the dude decks me," Levi said, clapping Ian hard on the back and turning to walk away.

Ian watched as his friend made his way back over to his date before making his way back to a disgruntled Mickey.

"The fuck was that about?" Mickey asked, staring down into his cup, his brows high on his forehead.

"Don't mind him, I think he's been sneakin' alcohol into his punch."

Mickey nodded and rubbed at his lower lip. "Let's get outta here, go find some weed, maybe feel each other up a little? This dance is lame as shit."

Ian nodded, thinking that was the best idea in the world as he followed Mickey through the throng of dancing bodies and out of the gymnasium.

Once they were in the empty hallway and the metal doors shut behind them, drowning out the chatter and cheesy pop music, Ian grabbed Mickey's wrist and tugged him into the same alcove under the stairs as days before. "Hold on a minute. We can't leave yet."

"The fuck're you doing?" Mickey asked, looking around to make sure they were alone.

"C'mon, Mick, dance with me before we leave," Ian said, pulling Mickey closer. "Just one song. We can't come to a dance and not dance to at least one song."

Mickey looked at Ian as if he'd grown two heads. "I told you I don't fuckin' dance."

"One song, that's all I'm asking," Ian said, not letting go of Mickey's hand. "'I'll blow you later?" He then grinned when he saw Mickey visibly start to give in. "Really? That's all it takes? The promise of getting your dick sucked? You're that easy?"

"Shut up, asshole," Mickey grumbled as Ian grabbed him by the waist and pulled their bodies flush together. "Who the fuck turns down free head?"

Before either of them could fully grasp the situation, they were slow dancing in the middle of the empty school hallway. It was kind of risky and really fucking cheesy, but Ian had never felt better. He'd never felt happier.

"I shoulda known you'd find some way to get me to do this stupid shit," Mickey huffed.

"What's the big deal? It's just us," Ian muttered next to Mickey's ear, "No one else is around."

"Yeah, for now," Mickey groused.

"Relax," Ian said, smiling gently as he tightened his arms around Mickey's waist.

"This is so fuckin' lame," Mickey grumbled, even as he lifted his hand and curled it around the nape of Ian's neck, his fingertips playing with the short hairs there. "How you get me to do this shit, I'll never fuckin' know."

"You like it."

Mickey hummed and pressed his face against Ian's shoulder.

"Fuck, Mickey, I really like you," Ian breathed. When Mickey pulled back a few inches, he leaned in and tapped his forehead against his. "I really fuckin' like you. It's kinda scary how much."

Mickey lifted his other hand and cupped it around the back of Ian's neck along with his other hand. He breathed unsteadily and nodded his head a little. His next words were barely above a whisper, "I like you, too."

Ian let out an unsteady breath and pulled Mickey in just a bit closer, his hands clutching the material of Mickey's dress shirt at the small of his back. "Did you ever think back in the day, this is where we'd be?"

"Nah, not really," Mickey muttered, his fingertips still playing in the hairs at the back of Ian's neck. "Gotta admit, though… I don't fuckin' hate it."

Ian huffed a small laugh, then leaned down to kiss Mickey softly and sweetly on the mouth.

They continued dancing to the faint music playing behind the heavy metal doors, just the two of them in the empty school hallway. At that moment, neither of them had a care in the world.

* * *

"I still can't believe you actually got Milkovich to go to the dance with you," Levi said the next day as he dug through his locker. "I'm impressed, Gallagher, I really didn't think you could do it. Your dick must be special, man. It made Milkovich stupid."

"Can you not talk about my dick, please? My dick had nothing to do with it," Ian intoned as he hefted his backpack on his shoulder. He then sighed, knowing in his heart what he had to do, what he wanted to do, what he should have done weeks ago. He turned fully towards his friend with a disgruntled look and watched as the smile slipped off Levi's face.

"Chill, man, it was a joke."

"Look, I wanna forget about the bet," Ian blurted. He watched as a look of confusion crossed Levi's face before continuing, "I'll give you the two hundred dollars, okay? You win. Even though I got Mickey to go to the dance with me, you win."

"You wanna give up the bet, just like that?" Levi asked, frowning. "Even though you won? Who the hell forfeits a bet they won?"

"I like the guy, alright?" Ian admitted after a pause. "I like him a lot. I don't wanna hurt him. I don't want him to know about any of this, ever. Got it? So I'll give you the money as long as you keep your mouth shut about it. Can we just leave it at that?"

Levi ran a hand over his hair as he seemingly tried to process it all. "So, you really wanna give it a real go with this guy?"

Ian nodded. "Yeah, I do. I care about him. I think a part of me always has. We just let miscommunication and our own stubbornness get in the way. Look, Lev, promise me this stays between us, alright? We'll take this whole thing to the grave. Mickey never has to know about any of it."

"Yeah," Levi said with a curt nod after a pause. "Alright, this stays between us."

"Thanks, I owe you one." Ian smiled and clamped a hand on Levi's shoulder. "Hey, I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah, man," Levi said just as Ian brushed past him to walk away.

Ian didn't see the smile slip from Levi's face when his back was turned. Once Ian rounded the corner, he pulled his phone out from his back pocket and texted Mickey: meet me under the bleachers in ten? I miss you.

Mickey answered back almost immediately: ill be there.

Ian grinned, his heart thumping pleasantly in his chest.

* * *

Mickey slipped his phone into his pocket, a grin on his face. He couldn't believe himself, acting like a fucking girl at the mere thought of meeting up with Ian after school, at the thought of kissing him again. He didn't give a shit, though. He was happy for the first time in a really long time.

"Hey, Milkovich."

Mickey turned around to find Ian's friend standing behind him. He frowned. Since when did Ian's friend approach him about anything? "The fuck do you want?"

Levi stopped in front of him, hefting his backpack higher on his shoulder before saying, "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about the whole bet thing, man. It wasn't cool."

"Bet?" Mickey asked after a pause, his heart beating hard in his chest for an entirely different reason that time. "What bet? What the fuck're you talkin' about?"

"We never meant for it to get that far," Levi explained with a shrug. "It was just a stupid little bet between friends. Ian was supposed to get you to like him and then get you to go to the dance with him. We didn't think you would, ya know, actually start to like him."

Mickey tongued the inside of his cheek and absolutely refused to show any emotion. He glanced away from Levi's eyes, doing everything he could to stop himself from decking the guy. "So, it was a bet? All of it?"

"Look, Ian feels really bad about it. He wanted me to tell you, didn't wanna do it himself," Levi continued. "He hopes you two can still be friends, eventually."

Mickey chuckled dryly and rubbed at his bleary eyes with his thumb and forefinger. In the next instant, he slammed his locker shut and headed towards the school exit.

* * *

The next morning at school, Ian found Mickey at his locker and walked up to him. "What the hell, Mickey?" Ian snapped. "I've been texting you all night. Why did you stand me up? I waited for your ass for over an hour last night." When Mickey didn't say anything, Ian tried again. "Hello? What's your problem?"

Mickey didn't say anything.

Ian leaned closer, his shoulder against the locker next to Mickey's, and he dropped his voice. "What's wrong, Mickey? What happened?"

Mickey slammed his locker shut, then turned to face Ian, his face anything but happy. "So, I was just a fuckin' bet to you?"

The color drained from Ian's face as Mickey's words registered. He opened his mouth a few times but nothing came out.

"Got nothin' to say?" Mickey snapped. "That's a fuckin' first, usually you can't keep your mouth shut." His shoulders slumped a little as he regarded Ian's forlorn expression. He tongued the inside of his cheek before saying, "So it's true, huh? I was just some stupid fuckin' bet to you? A big fuckin' joke between you and your asshole friend?"

"It wasn't supposed—" Ian began but nothing else came out. He sighed and stared back at Mickey, his eyes brimming with tears, and his jaw flexed.

"Fuckin' say something, asshole!" Mickey bellowed, causing their classmates to stop and stare. He glared at them until they scampered away before looking back at Ian, his eyebrows raised. "You fuckin' played me that whole time? This was all just a joke to you?"

"No, Mickey," Ian finally blurted, desperately finding his voice. He reached for Mickey's arm and recoiled when Mickey stepped out of his reach. "At first it was… it was just a lame bet. Levi bet me that I couldn't get you to like me. It was fuckin' stupid, and I never shoulda gone along with it."

Mickey scoffed and moved to walk past Ian, but Ian blocked his way.

"Back the fuck up, Gallagher."

"I never thought we'd…" Ian stammered. "I never thought you'd…"

"What?" Mickey spat, his own eyes wet, his tone shaky. "Never thought I'd what, huh? That I'd actually like you? Well congratu-fucking-lations, Gallagher. You won. Hope whatever you got out of the deal was fuckin' worth it."

"Mickey—"

"We're done," Mickey snapped, shaking his head adamantly and stepping out of Ian's reach once again. "Stay the fuck away from me. We only have a few months of school left, forget you fuckin' know me. You've done it before."

Ian grabbed Mickey's arm before he could walk away, only to suddenly be slammed back against the locker with Mickey's arm across his throat.

Mickey glared at him, his breathing heavy, their faces inches apart. "I mean it, Gallagher, stay the fuck away from me," he snapped before releasing his grip, stepping back, and turning to walk away.

* * *

"What the fuck, asshole!" Ian exclaimed a few minutes later, shoving his startled best friend hard from behind. "What the hell is your problem?"

Levi quickly recovered from his shock and shoved Ian back. "My problem? What the fuck is your problem?"

"You know what my problem is!"

"I really don't," Levi yelled. "Enlighten me!"

"You told Mickey!" Ian exclaimed, pushing Levi again. "You told Mickey about the bet! Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I'm doin' your ass a favor, asshole!" Levi retorted, fixing his askew shirt. "Trust me, you'll thank me for it one day."

Ian let out a sarcastic laugh and looked around in bewilderment before settling his eyes back on his so-called friend. "You're doing me a favor? How the hell do you figure that?"

"Look, I know you think you like this guy, but c'mon, man!" Levi began. "This is Mickey Milkovich we're talking about here. I know you're having fun with him right now, or whatever the fuck you're doing with him, but…"

"But what?" Ian spat when Levi paused for too long.

Levi sighed and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. "I didn't want you getting in too deep with the guy. You're better than that asshole, Ian. He'll only drag you down. You're leaving in a few months, and you worked hard to get wh—"

"I'm better than him?" Ian interjected with a bemused laugh. "How the fuck am I better than him? I'm the one who betrayed him, I'm the one who used him as a pawn in some fucked-up bet. If anything, I'll be lucky if he ever talks to me again thanks to you!"

"Ian, you—"

"You don't fuckin' know him, alright?" Ian spat. "You don't know shit, so keep your mouth shut about him."

"I know enough," Levi retorted. "A month ago you hated the guy too, or did you forget that?"

Ian laughed again and shook his head, his eyes once again averting away towards the end of the hallway. He did everything he could to stop himself from punching the guy in the face. He finally looked back at his former best friend and said, "Honestly, the only one I'm better than around here is you. I think you know that too, that's why you're always pitting us against each other." He began walking backward, his jaw stiff. "We're done here. Thanks for being such an awesome friend."

"The guy is a nobody," Levi called out once Ian's back was turned. "Deep down you know that. You're just letting some mediocre dick get in the way."

Ian halted in his steps and nodded a little before turning back around. Before Levi even had a chance to react, Ian punched him hard in the mouth, causing Levi to stumble back against a locker.

"What the fuck, Ian!" Levi called out as Ian turned and continued down the hallway.

Ian threw a middle finger over his shoulder in response. He then sighed and hung his head when a teacher intercepted him.

* * *

The next morning at school, after a night of tossing and turning and getting absolutely no sleep, Ian walked up to Mickey who was rummaging through his messy locker. He studied Mickey's profile, his heart aching in his chest when he saw Mickey's adam's apple bob nervously.

After a handful of moments, Mickey finally turned his head and looked at Ian. His eyes scanned Ian's face. "You look like shit," he intoned, his expression impassive.

"Didn't get much sleep," Ian muttered as he leaned his shoulder against the locker next to Mickey's. "Kept thinking about you. What I did to you."

"Oh, so now you're thinking about me, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Mick," Ian insisted, his tone earnest. "I'm really fuckin' sorry."

Mickey just scoffed as he stuffed his backpack with two books.

"I miss you."

"I don't give a shit how you feel."

Ian swallowed hard, those words feeling like a punch to the chest. "You don't?"

"No, I really fuckin' don't."

Ian pursed his lips and nodded a little before looking down. "I deserve that. Just wanted to let you know, though, that I do. I miss you."

"That sounds like a 'you' problem," Mickey snapped before slamming his locker shut and turning to head down the hall towards his first class.

"Mickey, don't be like this, talk to me," Ian pleaded as he tried to keep up with Mickey's quick strides. "I didn't mean to hurt you, okay? I never thought you'd even—"

"Never thought I'd what? Never thought I could be hurt?" Mickey interjected, stopping to face Ian, his face schooled in an unreadable expression. He shifted his jaw a few times before finally lifting his eyes to meet Ian's. He took a deep, shaky breath before saying, "Don't flatter yourself, asshole. I'm not hurt. I just feel stupid for lettin' your ass in when everything in my fuckin' gut told me not to. Trust me, that won't happen ever again." He brushed past Ian, hitting him hard with his shoulder, and continued down the hall.

That time, Ian stayed back, watching after him, swallowing thickly as his classmates mingled and jostled around him.

* * *

"Did something happen with you and Ian?"

"What makes you think that?" Mickey grumbled as he miserably forked through his mashed potatoes at lunchtime.

"Because for the past few weeks the two of you have been attached at the hip," Mandy pointed out. "Now you're eating lunch separately, and you're sulking like a—"

"The fuck? I'm not fuckin' sulking."

"You are so sulking."

"Bite me, bitch," Mickey snapped. "I don't sulk."

"You're moodier than usual," Mandy continued, undeterred by her brother's bad attitude. "You keep lookin' over your shoulder at him, looking like a kicked fuckin' puppy."

Mickey sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, knowing Mandy wouldn't let up unless she got some sort of answer. "Fine, if you must fuckin' know, me and Gallagher being close again? It was all just a big fuckin' joke to him. You happy now? Ian and his fuckhead friend had a bet going that he couldn't get me to like him. I fell for his bullshit like a bitch."

"You're telling me it was all fake?" Mandy asked after processing what her brother had just told her.

"What part of 'it was a fucking bet' don't you get?" Mickey spat. "It was all fake to him."

"I don't believe that for a second," Mandy said. "I saw the way he looked at you, all moony-eyed and shit. He's not that great of an actor."

"Well, then, you're just as much of a fuckin' idiot as I am," Mickey snapped. "He fooled us both, good for him. He shoulda made that a contingency of the bet. Maybe he coulda got some extra cash outta foolin' you too. Who the fuck knows, that mighta been part of the deal. I didn't ask for all the fine print."

Mandy gnawed on her bottom lip before saying, "I heard Ian punched his friend in the face yesterday, in the middle of the hallway outside of Peterson's class." She watched as Mickey slowly lowered his fork, but kept his eyes downcast. "He got a week's worth of after-school detention for it. Got in trouble with his ROTC people and everything."

"Why are you tellin' me this?"

"Because maybe Ian and Levi aren't as close as you think they are," Mandy said. "Maybe he really is sorry about what he did."

"Yeah, well," Mickey started after a pause, his eyes still downcast, his adam's apple bobbing, "it doesn't fuckin' matter what happened after the fact. He played me, Mandy. We're done. End of story."

Mandy sighed and glanced over at Ian who was looking at Mickey from across the room, the same sad look on his face that her brother had been sporting just minutes before. She had no doubt in her mind that Ian Gallagher felt something for her brother, and she definitely knew Mickey felt something for him. She usually didn't like to meddle in her brother's personal business, but she felt that she didn't have much of a choice. She knew her brother would never do anything to secure his own happiness, not without a little push in the right direction.

* * *

"So, I heard you screwed my brother over."

Ian looked up from rummaging through his locker and sighed when he saw Mandy standing next to him. He knew it was only a matter of time before Mickey's sister approached him. He waited for the inevitable punch or slap to the face, but it didn't come. His shoulders slumped, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. "I didn't mean to hurt him, Mandy, I promise. It was just a stupid bet that never shoulda happened. I should have stopped it the moment I started to feel…" His voice trailed off, and he pressed his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. "Fuck."

"Why'd you even do it?" Mandy asked. "Do you get off on causing other people pain?"

"I thought the guy hated me, alright?" Ian said, pulling his head away from the locker. "I never thought he'd actually have feelings for me. It was just a stupid bet between friends."

"It was still a shitty thing to do," she pointed out. "He used to be your best friend, Ian. Didn't that factor into your decision to do the bet even a little bit?"

Ian nodded and hung his head. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed again. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did."

"Shit, Mandy, I miss him," he murmured, his tone unsteady. "I didn't wanna hurt him."

Mandy's eyebrows relaxed a little, and she sighed, deciding to cut him some slack. "He misses you, too."

"Yeah right," Ian intoned. "He hates me, probably even worse than he did before."

"He doesn't hate you," Mandy assured. "He's just royally pissed off and rightfully so."

Ian swallowed thickly and nodded. "What can I do to fix it?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Mandy said with a shrug. "Just give him some time, give him space." When Ian hesitantly nodded, she finished with, "Using me to get closer to my brother because of some stupid fucking bet? You're lucky I don't kick your ass right now."

"I'm sorry," Ian muttered.

Mandy sighed and switched her backpack to her other shoulder before saying, "Look, everything inside me is telling me I shouldn't do this, but… I'm gonna ask my brother to meet up with me at Joanne's diner today after school. It's over on Spaulding. We go there a few times a month to get dinner. Our aunt works there and hooks us up with free food and milkshakes. Go there and talk to him. Maybe he'll hear you out."

Ian nodded, wanting to hug Mandy at that moment, but he refrained. "Thanks, Mandy. I owe you big time."

"Just don't fuck my brother over again, that's all I ask, or you'll have to worry about us both kicking your ass." After Ian's insistent nod, Mandy gave him a faint smile before turning and heading down the hallway.

* * *

Mickey puffed on his cigarette and looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, expecting to see his sister and fully intending on berating her for being late. Instead, he found Ian walking toward him, his head down, and his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ian looked up, his eyes squinting against the late afternoon sun. "Your sister set this up."

Mickey scoffed.

"Don't be mad at her."

"I'm gonna kick her fuckin' ass."

"No, you won't," Ian muttered, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're not as tough as you want everyone to think you are."

"Don't do that. Don't act as if you know me, Gallagher," Mickey snapped. "Just because we hung out for a few weeks doesn't mean you know me."

"I do know you," Ian said, taking a chance and stepping closer. "I know you hate me right now, and the last thing you wanna do is admit it, but I know you, Mickey. I know all your flaws, your insecurities. I know you want a better life for yourself. I know you're better than anything your fuckin' dad says to you." He stepped even closer until he was in Mickey's personal space. He watched as Mickey slowly lifted his eyes to meet Ian's, his teeth softly gnawing on his bottom lip. "I know you chew on your lower lip when you're nervous." He reached up bravely and swiped his thumb over Mickey's bottom lip. When Mickey's breath hitched, he continued, "I know I shoulda been there for you when we were kids. I shouldn't have let your dad scare me off, or let the fact that you hung out with Iggy's friends get to me. I know I regret not being around you these past six years."

Mickey visibly swallowed and looked askance, but he made no move to push Ian away. "You done?"

"No, I'm not done," Ian said, dropping his hands to slip inside Mickey's coat and grip his waist. "I know I really fuckin' messed up, and I regret hurting you. I regret going along with that stupid bet. I've never regretted anything more."

Mickey gnawed on his bottom lip and finally looked up into Ian's eyes.

"I know I'd do anything to get another chance with you," Ian continued, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Mickey's. "A real chance this time. I wouldn't fuck it up. I'd do anything to not fuck it up again."

"Don't know if I can give you another chance, man," Mickey murmured. "Maybe we should just go back to the way it used to be. You're leavin' in a couple of months, anyway, there'd be no fuckin' point in us starting something up."

Ian pulled back and looked into Mickey's eyes, immediately shaking his head as his heart sank in his chest. "Don't do that. Don't say no because you're scared. I'm scared, too, but we'd be so worth it, Mickey. So fuckin' worth it. I know it."

After a long pause, Mickey said, "You're so sure about that, huh?"

"I've never been more sure about anything else in my life," Ian breathed. He reached up with one hand and cupped it over Mickey's cheek. "I wanna be with you, Mickey. Fuck everyone and everything else."

Mickey sighed and stepped away from Ian, putting space between them. He looked to his right, his tongue poking around the inside of his cheek before looking back at Ian. After a beat, he jerked his head toward the entrance of the diner. "C'mon, let's go inside. I'm fuckin' cold and hungry. If I'm gonna listen to your ass talk, the least we can do is sit down and get food."

Ian grinned and moved to follow Mickey inside the warm diner.

"This doesn't mean I forgive your ass," Mickey grumbled as Ian held the door open for him.

"I know," Ian assured him. Still, he felt they were definitely taking steps in the right direction.

* * *

Ian and Mickey entered the Gallagher house later that evening, intent on finishing their talk there since the waitress kept giving them the stink-eye for sitting at their booth for over two hours.

They'd sipped milkshakes and talked about everything at length; Ian apologizing more for his part in the bet and answering any and all questions Mickey had about it. They talked more about West Point, their upcoming graduation, and even delved into what they'd been doing for the past six years without each other. Mickey had yet to tell Ian exactly where they stood, but the fact that Mickey had willingly agreed to keep the conversation going had Ian's hopes way up.

"Feels weird being back here," Mickey muttered, glancing around. "Nothing's changed, it's almost like no years have passed."

"Yeah, nothing ever really changes around here," Ian agreed, glancing around the living room before looking at Mickey. "Wanna come up to my room? I have the house to myself for a few hours, and I'm pretty sure Lip has some primo weed stashed under his bed."

"Yeah," Mickey said, scratching at the tip of his nose with his thumb. "Yeah, let's go up to your room."

Ian made a sweeping gesture with his hand, motioning for Mickey to head up the stairs first. He took the opportunity to check out Mickey's ass on the way up. Once they reached Ian's room, they both stepped inside, and Ian closed the door behind them. He grabbed the only chair in the room and secured it under the doorknob, giving him and Mickey some privacy in case anyone came home early. He didn't want Lip catching them smoking his weed.

"Fuck, your room looks even smaller than I remember," Mickey said as he unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and looked around. "You still share it with all your brothers?"

"Uh huh," Ian said as he shrugged out of his coat. "Not for long. They're not too bent out of shape over it, though. They're already planning on moving my bed out as soon as I'm off to West Point."

Mickey nodded and looked towards Ian's twin-sized bed. "Lotta memories on this bed," he said as he sat down on it, bouncing on it a little to test out its firmness.

Ian laughed, a little thrilled at the sight of Mickey on his bed. "I know. We made a lotta blanket forts. Remember when we stole one of Lip's titty mags and hid under the blankets with a flashlight to look at it? We didn't even really care about the stupid thing, it was just something forbidden so we had to do it."

"We felt like such fuckin' badasses," Mickey said with a laugh.

Ian sat down next to Mickey on the bed, their shoulders touching. He glanced around his childhood room, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "Can't believe I'm leaving soon. Don't know when I'll be back here. It's weird. It's a shitty, cramped room, and my bed is so fucking small I can barely fit in it, but I'm gonna miss the hell out of it."

Mickey reached over and placed his hand on Ian's thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

Ian stared down at Mickey's hand on his thigh, then looked back up to find Mickey staring back intently. Without saying anything, Ian leaned in and pressed his mouth against Mickey's in a sweet, close-mouthed kiss.

Mickey moaned a little in the back of his throat and reached up to tangle his left hand in Ian's hair. He opened his mouth to Ian, sighing when Ian's tongue touched his.

"Mickey," Ian breathed after pulling away from the kiss. "Want you."

Mickey pressed his forehead against Ian's and nodded. "Fuck, I want you too." He leaned back in and kissed Ian again before bringing his right hand down and cupping him through his jeans.

Ian sighed against Mickey's mouth and dropped his own hand down to grasp Mickey's, causing Mickey to palm his dick harder. The kiss turned messy from there, their breathing becoming more erratic.

"Fuck, Ian, take this shit off," Mickey gasped after a minute, his fingers fumbling with Ian's belt buckle.

Ian reached down and undid his belt and zipper, then moaned when Mickey's hand slipped inside. He leaned back on his elbows and tossed his head back as Mickey stroked him. "Shit, Mickey." He dropped his head and groaned at the sight of Mickey's hand working under his jeans.

Mickey pulled his hand out of Ian's pants after a few dozen strokes and then moved to straddle him on the small bed. Their mouths latched again in a tongue-tangling kiss as he slowly rutted against Ian. He ran his fingers through Ian's hair, then trailed his fingertips down the sides of his neck and rested his thumbs against Ian's jaw, tipping his head back and holding him in place as he controlled and guided the kiss.

Ian's hands found Mickey's ass, and he held Mickey tighter against him, wanting the least amount of space between them as possible.

"You feel good," Mickey moaned into Ian's mouth. He then pulled back and lifted his arms above his head as he stared into Ian's eyes, his expression saying everything.

Ian smiled softly as he slipped his hands under Mickey's shirt and began moving them up, his palms slowly smoothing over Mickey's ribs. He pulled the garment up and over Mickey's head before tossing it aside. He leaned in and feathered soft kisses against Mickey's bare sternum.

Mickey sighed deeply and dug his hand in Ian's hair again, watching as Ian's soft, pink lips kissed his skin. "Here," he murmured, reaching for the bottom of Ian's shirt. Once it was off, he leaned in for another kiss. That time it was slow and passionate as they clung to and moved against each other, skin against skin.

With a little effort, Ian maneuvered them so that Mickey was on his back and Ian was between his legs. They continued their languid kissing and slow rutting. He grabbed Mickey's right leg and hefted it up and around his waist, wanting to be as close as possible.

After dry humping and kissing for a while, Mickey motioned for Ian to pull back a little. He looked up into Ian's eyes and swallowed thickly.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Ian breathed after a few heartbeats, his eyes falling to Mickey's plump, wet lips.

Mickey reached up and cupped his hand around the side of Ian's neck, his thumb lovingly caressing Ian's cheek. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Ian leaned down and kissed Mickey again, not once breaking the kiss as he reached down and pushed his own boxers and pants down. With a little effort, he kicked the garments off, having to try a few times since his pants kept getting caught on his feet. Both boys laughed into the kiss at the clumsiness of it all. Finally, Ian was completely naked, and he sat back on his knees.

Mickey stared up at him, his expression open, and his eyes saying everything Ian needed to know to move forward.

Ian hooked his fingers under the waistband of Mickey's pants and boxers, and he tugged them down and off.

Mickey lifted his hips to help Ian out, and then before he could fully grasp how fast everything was happening, his pants were on the floor, and they were both completely naked.

Ian swept his eyes down Mickey's naked body. "Shit, Mickey," he muttered before leaning back down and kissing Mickey again. He smoothed his hand over Mickey's right cheek, down the side of his neck, over his chest (resting over his pounding heart for a few extra beats), and then down lower before wrapping his fingers around Mickey's dick.

Mickey groaned into the kiss and wrapped an arm around Ian's neck.

Ian pulled away from the kiss before pressing his forehead to Mickey's. They breathed the same air, their breaths coming out ragged. "Wanna make you feel good." He lifted his head to place a soft, lingering kiss on Mickey's forehead before moving to kiss his way down Mickey's body, starting at the tip of his nose.

Mickey watched with hooded eyes as Ian dropped kisses on his skin, stopping to tease his nipple with his tongue. He laughed breathily and then bit his lower lip, biting back a moan. His left hand stayed in Ian's hair even after Ian licked his way down to his belly button. He then nipped and kissed Mickey's thigh, purposely keeping away from where Mickey really wanted him. "C'mon, Ian, stop with the teasing already." He canted his hips up a little, causing his dick to slide wetly against Ian's cheek.

"Someone's impatient," Ian teased.

"Been waitin' for this for a while," Mickey murmured back, smiling faintly when Ian lifted his head to meet his eyes, right before they rolled to the back of his head when Ian's hot mouth engulfed him without warning. "Fuck, Ian," he drawled, tightening the grip on Ian's hair as his mouth bobbed on his cock, feeling so tight and wet and fucking perfect.

The sounds Mickey was making were like music to Ian's ears, and he would smile around Mickey's cock if he could. He continued sucking Mickey off with gusto, swallowing around him on every other bob. He brought his hand up and fondled Mickey's balls, pulling even more groans from Mickey's mouth.

"Not gonna fuckin' last if you keep doing that," Mickey warned.

Ian blew him for another minute before reluctantly pulling away with a moan and a pop of his lips, a string of saliva bridging between his mouth and Mickey's dick. Fuck, he could suck Mickey's dick for hours, but they both had other plans. "Here, turn over."

Mickey took a minute to take a few deep breaths before maneuvering onto his stomach. He then moaned when Ian grabbed him by the hips and pulled him back, causing him to arch his back, his ass on full display. He rested his cheek on his crossed arms and watched as Ian leaned over the side of the bed to grab something from the bedside table.

Ian grabbed his trusty tube of lube and a condom, and then he repositioned himself on his knees behind Mickey. A huge part of him wanted to eat Mickey out right then and there, wanted Mickey completely wrecked and moaning his name, but he figured they had plenty of time for that another day. Right then he just wanted to get inside him. He rolled the condom on and squirted a liberal amount of lube into his hand. He warmed the cold liquid between his palms before using one slicked-up hand to stroke his cock, and the other hand to slowly and gently press a finger inside Mickey.

"Fuck," Mickey groaned once Ian's finger breached him and hooked, finding and massaging his prostate.

"You okay?" Ian asked, his own voice wrecked. Just watching Mickey take his finger was doing things to him. He couldn't wait to get inside that ass, but he had to make sure Mickey was absolutely ready before moving forward.

"Fuck yeah, I'm good," Mickey breathed. "Gimme more."

Ian added another finger and then cursed when Mickey began fucking himself back on Ian's fingers. "Shit, Mickey, don't know how much longer I can wait." He removed his hand from his dick, knowing if he didn't stop jerking his cock he'd probably blow his load before anything even happened.

"Gimme a minute," Mickey sighed, continuing to rock back on Ian's fingers. "It's been a while since I've done this."

Ian gripped Mickey's hip with his left hand as his right hand continued fingering Mickey, scissoring and loosening him up. By that point, he and Mickey were both panting and moaning, both eager to get on with it.

"Alright, I'm good."

Ian leaned over Mickey and pressed a kiss to his left shoulder blade and then whispered against the shell of Mickey's ear, "Let me know if it gets to be too much."

"I can take it," Mickey assured. "I'm good, just get the fuck on me."

Ian sat back and dragged the tip of his dick against Mickey's hole and then slid between his crack a few times before finally pressing the head against the rim and gently pushing in. He grabbed onto Mickey's hips and pulled him back as he slowly sank in inch by inch.

Mickey cursed under his breath and hung his head as he tried to adjust to the dick in his ass.

"You okay?" Ian had just enough presence of mind to ask.

"Yeah, good, keep going."

Ian pulled out, groaning as he watched Mickey's hole clench around him. He pushed back in, bottoming out completely. He tightened his grip on Mickey's hips and tipped his head back. "Shit, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

Mickey reached down under him and began stroking his own dick. "Me neither."

Ian laughed through his heavy breathing and started thrusting in and out of Mickey with a slow, measured pace, not wanting to go fast because he didn't want to come too soon, or hurt Mickey. Ian draped himself over Mickey's back, pinning him to the twin-sized mattress. He slowly rolled his hips, his thrusts shallow. He held himself up by his arms, not wanting to put all his weight on Mickey. All too quickly, and way before he was ready to, Ian was coming with a groan, his entire body shuddering.

Mickey laughed breathlessly once Ian was spent. "I don't know if I should be flattered or pissed off."

Ian pulled out of Mickey and sat back, allowing Mickey room to roll over. "Sorry," he breathed. "Couldn't help it."

Mickey took in the sight of Ian, his face flushed, and his hair a mess. "C'mere," he murmured, motioning with two fingers for Ian to lean down. He captured Ian's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged playfully before plunging his tongue inside Ian's mouth. They panted and groaned inside the kiss as Ian reached down and jerked Mickey off, his hand tight and slick and fucking perfect around Mickey's cock. It didn't take much before Mickey was shooting his own load between their stomachs.

Ian finally pulled away from the kiss once they'd both stopped shuddering and rolled over onto his back. He rolled the condom off his spent dick and tossed it towards Lip's bed.

"Can't believe we just banged on your childhood bed," Mickey said once he'd caught his breath. He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Ian propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at Mickey, unable to control the fond smile on his face. "Seems kinda perfect though, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, guess it kinda is." Mickey stared back, his expression full of affection, and his lips pulled in a small smile. His eyes fell to Ian's lips, then back up again. "So, uh, you ready to go again, or you need some time, Minuteman?"

"Oh, fuck you!" Ian exclaimed, his own laughter filling the small room as they wrestled around on his tiny bed.

"You are goin' down, Army!" Mickey exclaimed, his whole face lit up as he put up a fight. "C'mere, Army!"

Ian shut Mickey up with a devouring kiss. The second time, Ian lasted much longer and, to his satisfaction, Mickey came first and hard with Ian's name spilling from his lips.

* * *

A few weeks later, Ian and Mickey were sitting on the back steps of the Gallagher house, Ian leaning back against the banister and Mickey leaning back against his chest. They were passing a cigarette back and forth over Mickey's shoulder.

When Ian pressed a soft kiss to the spot beneath Mickey's ear, Mickey spoke, his words soft and contemplative. "Still can't believe you're leaving in a little over a month."

"Me neither," Ian murmured.

"It sucks," Mickey sighed. "We finally get something fuckin' going, and you're leaving."

Ian pressed another kiss against Mickey's skin, his lips lingering, and his mind running on overdrive. It didn't seem fair to Ian. All those years wasted. He was finally getting a real chance with Mickey, and he was leaving. He decided on a whim to blurt the words he had been thinking about for days. "Come with me."

Mickey laughed a little as he reached back and handed Ian the cigarette. "Fuck off."

"No, I'm serious, Mickey," Ian said, "Come with me." When Mickey scoffed, Ian frowned. "Is it really that crazy? You're eighteen now, you can do whatever you wanna do. No one can stop you. You can get a shitty full-time job and rent a shitty studio apartment near the campus. For the first year, I'll most likely only be able to see you on the weekends, but at least we'll be close, we'll be in the same city. We can live together all next summer."

Mickey was silent for a while, the idea clearly rolling around in his head. Finally, he said, "Nah, man, I can't just pack up my shit and follow you halfway across the country."

"Why not?"

Mickey opened his mouth to give him a reason, but nothing came out.

"Besides Mandy, give me one good reason why you'd wanna stay here?" Ian asked, his lips soft against Mickey's neck. "Come with me, Mick. We can be together, and you can get away from your fuckin' dad. It'll be hard, I'm not gonna deny that, but at least you'll be safe."

"I can't leave Mandy," Mickey uttered after a heavy pause. He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. "There's no fuckin' way I can leave her here with him."

"But you can—"

"I'm serious, Ian," Mickey interjected, turning so he could look up at Ian who was sitting a step above him. "Just drop it, alright? It's not gonna happen. My life is here. Even though they're shit, my family is here. I can't go with you."

Ian pursed his lips, wanting to argue his case some more, but he could tell by the look on Mickey's face that there was no use in arguing. "Okay," he settled on, leaning in and kissing Mickey softly on the mouth. "It was just a thought." He then pressed his forehead against Mickey's and let out an unsteady breath. "Don't know how I'm gonna handle being away from you and not knowing what your dad's doing to you."

"You've done it before," Mickey muttered. He pulled away with a heavy sigh and looked into Ian's sad eyes. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"It's okay," Ian mumbled, gripping Mickey by the back of his head and pulling him in to press a kiss against his temple. "I deserved it."

"No, you don't, Ian," Mickey argued. "I can't keep throwin' that shit in your face. We were kids back then. You're here now, that's what matters."

"Yeah," Ian murmured, "I'm here now."

Ian and Mickey soon went back to their previous inane conversation, officially shelving the idea of Mickey leaving with Ian. Even though his heart was breaking a little in his chest, Ian smiled every time Mickey looked at him. He didn't want to make anything harder on Mickey than it had to be. He refused to make Mickey feel guilty about any of it.

* * *

A few days later, Mickey made his way up to the rooftop of the abandoned building where Ian had his makeshift obstacle course. His boyfriend had called him an hour ago, sounding stressed out about something, and he'd asked Mickey to meet him. Mickey didn't know what any of it was about, but he kind of hoped it involved either or both of them with their pants down around their ankles.

Once he reached the top, he'd expected to find Ian shirtless and sweaty, in the middle of running the course. Instead, he found fucking rose petals and Ian standing in the middle of the space, holding up a sign that said 'Prom?'

"The fuck?"

Ian smiled, even though his nervousness was evident all over his face. "Hey, Mick."

"The fuck is this?" Mickey asked again.

Ian swallowed visibly as Mickey walked closer. "I was just gonna ask you outright, but then Debbie said I had to put in at least some effort. She said people were doing elaborate shit nowadays to ask people to the prom. This is about as elaborate as I get without being over the top."

Mickey walked closer, stopping a foot away from his rambling boyfriend, his eyes taking in the fancy, pink-lettered sign Ian held, and the way the setting sun romantically illuminated the area surrounding them. "No, not over the top at all," he intoned sarcastically.

"Debbie made the sign, suggested the rose petals and balloons, too," Ian continued, his voice a little shaky. "Look, I know it's cheesy as fuck, and I know prom isn't really your thing, but I want to go—"

"You're right, it is really fuckin' cheesy," Mickey interjected, his eyes lifting to meet Ian's. "Probably the lamest shit you've ever done, and that's saying a lot."

Ian's shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth to say something to rectify the embarrassing situation, but he was cut off.

"But it's kinda workin' for me, Gallagher."

Ian took in Mickey's words and then grinned. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, man," Mickey said, tucking a finger into the waistband of Ian's army fatigues and pulling him closer.

Ian dropped the sign to the side and wrapped his arms around Mickey's neck. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Mickey's lips before murmuring, "So, you'll go to prom with me?"

Mickey looked up into Ian's eyes and smirked fondly. He laughed and shook his head a little at the absurdity of it all, his hands settling on Ian's waist. "Yeah, Ian, I'll go to prom with you."

Ian couldn't control his grin as he leaned in to kiss Mickey again.

* * *

"Can't believe he did all that," Mandy said later that night, a smile on her face as she watched Mickey stirring noodles at the stove. "It's so… romantic. Rose petals and everything?" She then scoffed. "All Matt did was text me asking me to go."

Mickey chortled and was glad his back was turned, not wanting his sister to see the smile on his own face. Even though he had acted like it hadn't been that big of a deal, the fact that Ian had planned something like that for him… he never expected anyone to ever care about him like that. It was cheesy as all fuck, Ian was cheesy as all fuck, but Mickey secretly loved it.

"Sucks he's leaving in a month though," Mandy said, instantly killing Mickey's good mood. "You guys are really good for each other. You gonna do the whole long distance thing or what?"

"Yeah, I guess," Mickey mumbled as he turned away from the stove after checking on the marinara sauce.

"Think you can handle that?" Mandy asked. "Skype is good and all, but virtual dick is definitely not as good as the real thing."

"Don't like him for just his dick," Mickey muttered.

"I know you don't, dipshit, I'm just saying."

Mickey leaned back against the counter and rubbed his lower lip before saying, "He asked me to move to New York with him."

Mandy's head shot up from the magazine she was flipping through. "He did what?"

"Yeah," Mickey said, shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal. "Wants me to follow his pale, freckly ass halfway across the country. Can you believe that shit? Like this is a fuckin' chick flick or somethin'," Mickey laughed, even though he found nothing funny about any of it. He looked up to find that Mandy was also not amused.

"What did you say to him?"

Mickey's eyebrows knitted together. "What d'you think I said? I told him no."

"Why?"

"The fuck you mean why?" Mickey asked after a pause. "You know why."

"No, I don't know why," Mandy intoned, her expression unreadable. "Tell me."

Mickey sighed and pushed away from the counter. "I can't leave, Mandy. My life is here… in Chicago."

"What fucking life?" Mandy asked, her voice shaking a little.

"Fuck off," Mickey retorted with a sneer.

"No, I'm serious, Mickey, what life?" Mandy asked again. "You mean your life going on drug runs with dad? Gettin' your ass beat by him every other night? Your boyfriend, who you're in love with, by the way, wants you to move with him to New York, and you told him no?"

"First of all, who the fuck said anything about love?"

Mandy smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're in love with him, asshole. You can't play dumb with me."

Mickey averted his eyes and rubbed the corner of his lip with his thumb. After a heavy pause, he took a deep breath and said, "I'm not leavin' you, alright?"

"What are you—"

"Just fuckin' drop it," Mickey snapped. "I'm not leaving you here with that prick, end of fuckin' story." He sniffed as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. When Mandy didn't say anything, he looked up and was surprised to see Mandy was crying. "The fuck? Mandy…"

"I want you to go, Mickey." Before Mickey could open his mouth to argue, she interjected. "Ian makes you happy. He loves you. There's nothing for you here. You stay here, he'll kill you… eventually. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Mentally. He'll kill you, Mickey. You need to go. You need to go, and you need to be happy. I really need for you to be happy, okay?"

"Mandy," Mickey began, his own eyes blearing with unshed tears even though he desperately fought it. "I can't leave you. I fuckin' won't… not with him."

"Don't worry about me," Mandy said, smiling gently through her tears. "I'll be okay. I can take care of myself. All that matters to me is that you get out."

Mickey shifted his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sniffed and looked back up. "Come with us."

Mandy shook her head. "You know I'm not gonna do that. I still have a year of school left… and I have Matt. I'll be okay." She stood up and walked to Mickey. "This is something you need to do… for yourself. Don't worry about me. Seriously."

"That's not gonna fuckin' happen," Mickey muttered. "Always gonna worry about your skank ass."

"Yeah, well, I'd say I'll always worry about your ass too, but we both know as long as you have Ian around I won't have to," Mandy said. "He loves you, Mick. Don't you dare fucking let that go."

Mickey eventually nodded and pulled his sister close to him for a hug.

* * *

As soon as Mickey saw Ian, he hightailed it in his direction.

Ian looked up from sweeping by the drink coolers and grinned. Before he could say anything, Mickey had a hand wrapped around the nape of his neck and was pulling him in for a kiss. The broom dropped from Ian's hand with a loud clatter, and he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, pulling him closer.

After pulling away from the kiss, Mickey pressed his face against Ian's shoulder. As Ian softly massaged his scalp, Mickey sighed deeply, then pulled back to look his boyfriend in the eyes. The love he saw within them left him a little breathless. As scary as it all was, he knew he was about to do the right thing. "So, how you wanna do this?" Mickey blurted. "We pack our shit and rent a U-Haul?"

"What?" Ian asked, looking flustered and slightly dazed.

"You heard me."

"You're comin' with me? To New York?"

Mickey nodded and gripped Ian's waist. "Fuck yeah, I'm comin' with you."

Ian immediately engulfed Mickey's face in his hands and kissed him. When he pulled back moments later, he had tears in his eyes. His thumbs stroked the apples of Mickey's cheeks as he pressed their foreheads together. "You're really coming with me?"

"How many times you want me to say it, asshole?"

"Until I know it's real."

Mickey grinned. "I'm comin' with you," he murmured after a slight pause. "It's fuckin' real."

"I love you," Ian breathed in the next instant, meaning it with his whole heart.

Mickey pulled back, the surprise he felt at hearing those words for the first time evident on his face. He then leaned back in, pressing a soft kiss against Ian's mouth and squeezing his waist. A moment later he pulled back again and said, "This is fuckin' crazy."

"I know."

"Where the fuck am I gonna live?"

Ian laughed. "Hell if I know, but we'll figure it out. We always do."

Mickey arched his brows and grinned before moving his hands from Ian's waist down to his ass.

Ian backed Mickey up against the counter and kissed him hard. They laughed through the kiss and groped each other over their clothes until Linda warned them to 'get a damn room' over the intercom. Ian reluctantly went back to work, promising to meet up with Mickey later that night. Little did Linda know, Mickey snuck back in through the back, and he and Ian finished what they'd started in the cooler.

* * *

A couple of weeks later, Ian was making his way down the hall, his eyes glued to his phone and a grin on his face as he read a text message from Mickey. It definitely wasn't school-appropriate. He didn't know why Mickey felt the need to sext him while he was on his way to his third-period class, but Ian wasn't complaining.

When Ian reached his locker, he looked up and stopped in his tracks when he saw Levi waiting for him. He hadn't spoken to Levi since the day he punched him in the face. With a sigh, he hefted his backpack higher on his shoulder and made his way toward his ex-best friend. "The hell do you want?"

"Look, man," Levi began, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about how things went down between us. Don't wanna leave school in a couple weeks and never get a chance to say that." He then paused before saying, "I miss my best friend."

Ian nodded a little and looked down at his boots. A small part of him had missed his best friend too, but there was no way he could ever forgive Levi for the shit he had pulled. He'd almost cost Ian his relationship with Mickey, and that was just something Ian wouldn't be able to get over. "It was pretty shitty, what you did."

"I know," Levi said, "I guess I just didn't think you were as into him as you thought you were. I thought I was protecting you from an inevitable fallout."

"Yeah, well, I'm in love with him, so," Ian clarified, lifting his head in time to see the surprised look on Levi's face. "I think a part of me always has been. We've always cared about each other, we just needed that push to make us both realize it. So, I guess a part of me should be thanking you for proposing that stupid bet."

When Levi looked at him, confused, Ian continued.

"It made me see what and who was most important in my life." It was an obvious dig at his ex-friend, and Ian hoped he felt it.

Levi nodded and looked away, Ian's words obviously hitting him where it hurt. "Yeah. I get it. I'll see ya around."

"Yeah," Ian said, watching as Levi walked away from him. It hurt a little, considering Levi had more or less been his best friend for the past five years, but that part of his life was over. In a few weeks, he'd be moving to a new city with a guy he was unequivocally in love with, and Levi would eventually be just some guy he used to know. "See ya."

* * *

On the night of prom, Ian took a deep breath before making his way up the rickety steps of the Milkoviches front porch. Mandy had called him a little while ago to inform him that Terry had left to go drinking with his friends and wouldn't be back for hours, so it was safe for him to show up. He knew that eventually he and Mickey would most likely have to confront Terry about their relationship, and he knew it was going to be ugly, but they didn't have to confront that problem tonight or anytime soon, hopefully. Terry Milkovich had been blissfully unaware of his youngest son's sexuality for years. Mickey and Ian didn't see why that had to end in the foreseeable future, especially since they would both be on their way to New York in a couple of weeks.

Before Ian could knock on the door, it opened and Mandy grinned at the sight of him. "Holy shit, you look so good, Ian! Mickey is gonna flip the fuck out!" she exclaimed, looking him over.

"Thanks, Mandy," Ian said with a smile. "You look really pretty too."

Mandy twirled around, showing off her short, purple, sparkly dress. "Thank you, I know."

Ian laughed and, in the next instant, his eyes averted over Mandy's shoulder, his breath catching at the sight of Mickey standing there. He looked incredible in a black tux. His undershirt and tie were black as well, and his hair was slicked back neatly.

Mandy ducked her head and stepped out of the way, knowing she was currently unwanted.

Ian stepped towards Mickey, his eyes sweeping over him. "Shit, Mickey, you look…"

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey muttered, grabbing Ian by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. "You look good too," he murmured against Ian's mouth.

Ian laughed breathlessly when they pulled apart. He gulped and eyed Mickey up and down again, unable to take his eyes off him.

"Here, let me get a picture of you guys," Mandy said, breaking the sweet moment and holding up her phone.

"Hold on," Ian said, holding up the small box he'd brought with him. "I need to put this on first."

"What the fuuuck," Mickey groused. "I thought I told you before I wasn't wearing one of those fuckin' things."

Ian rolled his eyes but smiled fondly. "Relax, it's just flowers, Mick. All the guys will be wearing them." He then pointed out the boutonniere he had on his own jacket that Debbie had bought, both knowing Mickey would most likely skip it. He pulled out the small blue boutonniere he'd picked out for Mickey and attached it to Mickey's lapel with shaky fingers.

Mickey watched as Ian's fingers worked before glancing up into his eyes. He smiled faintly, then leaned in to press a sweet kiss to Ian's mouth. "You're lucky your ass is hot," he muttered, which caused Ian to laugh.

"Okay, enough making goo-goo eyes at each other, lemme take this picture," Mandy said. "Matt will be here any minute."

Ian pulled Mickey against him and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, doing the classic prom pose.

"This is so fuckin' lame."

"You love it," Ian muttered against the shell of Mickey's ear. They both smiled for the ten pictures Mandy snapped, all of which Mickey begrudgingly stood still for.

A car beeped outside and Mandy looked out through the faded curtains to confirm that it was her date there to pick them up. "Let's go, shitheads, or we're gonna be late."

"We wouldn't want that," Mickey groused under his breath.

As they followed Mandy out the door, Ian reached over and laced his fingers through Mickey's.

"I'm really glad you're going to prom with me, Mick," Ian said, giving Mickey's hand a little squeeze. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world, to get a third chance with Mickey. He wasn't going to fuck it up. "I'm easily gonna have the hottest date there."

Mickey looked Ian up and down a little as he rubbed his lower lip. "I dunno about that. Think I might have you beat on that one."

Ian's grin couldn't have been bigger. "Dude, you're like so gay for me."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Chuckles," Mickey muttered as they made their way down the dilapidated porch steps. "We're still sneakin' off to the bathroom to bang at some point tonight. Gotta get something outta this shitty-ass deal."

Ian laughed as he opened the door to Mandy's date's beat-up Honda Accord for Mickey, loving the disgruntled look on Mickey's face. "Alright, only if you dance with me for a few songs first."

"Fuck off, told you I don't dance."

Ian sighed. "Fine, two songs."

"Eat me."

Ian raised an eyebrow and smiled salaciously.

Mickey sighed, knowing there was no use in arguing with his boyfriend. "Fine, one fuckin' song, that's it. You're lucky you're even getting that." He watched as Ian dipped his head and laughed, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. Mickey couldn't help the fond smile that tugged at his lips at the sight. "Don't know why I put up with your ass," he grumbled unconvincingly.

Before he ducked into the car, he leaned in and kissed Ian again, that time letting his lips linger a little longer than before.

When they broke apart, Ian grinned and got into the car after Mickey. Once they were seat-belted in and on the road, Mickey reached over and entwined his fingers with Ian's without a second thought as he leaned towards the passenger seat to argue with Mandy about something inane.

Ian knew why Mickey put up with his ass. He thought maybe Mickey loved him. Mickey probably wouldn't say it for a while, might never say it if Ian was being honest with himself, but he knew Mickey felt it almost as strongly as he did.

Ian loved Mickey. He probably always had and knew he always would. Ian didn't know what their future held, but he figured as long as Mickey was by his side, they'd be alright.

He'd bet on that.

* * *

EPILOGUE~

Mickey ended up telling Ian he loved him while they were on their way to New York.

They'd stopped at a crappy motel for the night, using some of the money Ian had saved up over the years from working at the Kash-n-Grab. They were spooning on the lumpy, musty-smelling mattress, listening to the steady sounds of each other's breathing before Ian had broken the silence.

"You sure you're not gonna regret this?" Ian asked, his voice sounding almost childlike in the dark.

Mickey thought about Ian's words before he rolled over to face him. "What kinda question is that?"

"I'm not gonna lie, it's gonna be hard, Mick. I just don't want you to regret leaving Chicago." He leaned in and pressed his face against Mickey's chest. "I don't want you to regret me."

Mickey closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose in Ian's hair before muttering, "That's not gonna happen."

Ian pulled back and looked at Mickey, his expression open and earnest. "How can you know that?"

"Because I'm more sure about you than I've ever been about anything else in my life," Mickey uttered after a pause. "And because I love you." He took in the look of complete surprise on Ian's face. He chuckled and touched his forehead to Ian's. "C'mon, Gallagher, like you didn't already fuckin' know."

"I did, it's just really nice to hear," Ian muttered before rolling over to kiss Mickey. They made love for the second time that night, that time slower and more passionate as they allowed their bodies to fill in the blanks of all the things they hadn't yet said to each other.

Their first year in New York was really hard on them both. Mickey got a job at a small diner as a line cook working a lot of double shifts. He quickly realized he couldn't keep staying in crappy motels for long since their own squirrel fund was quickly dwindling. He couldn't afford an apartment on his own in New York, so he'd answered an ad looking for a roommate. Within a little over a week, he moved into a shitty, rat-infested three-bedroom apartment with three other people who all got on his nerves in equal measure for various reasons, which was a big reason why he didn't exactly mind working long hours.

Ian had to live on campus during his first year, and he was physically and mentally put through the wringer. West Point was a lot harder than he'd ever imagined it would be. On the rare occasion when he was given a pass to leave campus for the weekend, he spent it cooped up with Mickey in his small bedroom on a bed that wasn't any bigger than Ian's childhood one. Not seeing each other very often had unsurprisingly taken a toll on their relationship, but they never talked about or even considered breaking up. They were both determined to make it work.

They spent that second summer in New York together. Three whole months of going on dates, making love, reconnecting, and remembering exactly why moving to New York together had been worth it in the first place. Mandy had even come out to visit for a week, telling them about how things with her and Matt were still going strong, and how things at home weren't so bad since Terry was in prison yet again for armed robbery. Mickey had been relieved to know that his little sister would be safe for at least a few more years, or until she could get out of Chicago herself.

Shortly after starting his second year at West Point, Ian dropped out, finally admitting to himself that the army was no longer something he wanted for himself, not when he saw his future in a whole new light than he had in the past. The army was no longer his end goal; building a future with Mickey was all he wanted. He ended up getting his own full-time job as a bartender at some swanky bar making good tips. He was intent on working for a little while and maybe even enrolling in some type of community college down the line. Ian and Mickey eventually found their own tiny, shitty, studio apartment. Life was good. They were in love and happy and safe. The way it was meant to be.


End file.
